


The Fine Line

by rizlowwritessortof



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 97,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7215523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizlowwritessortof/pseuds/rizlowwritessortof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected tragedy sends Devon down the dark path of hate and vengeance, but she will learn that things are not always what they seem...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Scott Nolan swept a lock of his greying hair from his forehead and opened the back of the Suburban, smiling as his daughter walked around to join him. "Well, Devvy, what do you think of my luxury cabin?"

Devon smiled, hiding her eye roll at her father's nickname for her and shaking her head, her chestnut ponytail bobbing. "Dad, I'm not sure luxury is quite the word." She grabbed a box of provisions from the back of the vehicle and waited for her father as he threw the strap of his rifle, then his duffle bag, over one shoulder and searched his pocket for the key to the front door.

"Okay, maybe we should go with rustic, then," he joked as he swung the door open. Devon walked in, glancing around the large room, and depositing the box on the heavy wooden table. It looked as though someone had just cobbled it together with rough-hewn lumber, but it had been well-used and the top surface, at least, was smooth. She turned to look the room over further, noting the stone fireplace, complete with a deer head mounted over the mantle; an ugly brown and orange plaid sofa, that looked incredibly comfortable; and a recliner, thanks, no doubt, to her dad. "There are two bedrooms, so take whichever one you want, Devvy," her dad said, coming in with another load from the Suburban. "I brought a grill up last time I was here, but the stove works too. And there's a little lake not too far from here, if you want to swim or fish a little." He moved to stand in front of his daughter, putting his hands on her shoulders. "So, what do you think?"

"It's nice, Dad, really. I like rustic." She smiled at him. "But why did it take you so long to bring me up here? I haven't seen you for, what-three years?" Her father dropped his eyes, guilt flitting across his face.

"I know. I'm sorry." He turned and began to unpack the groceries. "I've kind of been on the road for a while. Do you remember me talking about my friend, John Winchester?"

"The name sounds familiar. But you've never really talked about your friends to me very much, Dad." Scott stopped what he was doing, hanging his head a little, and Devon felt a twinge of guilt herself. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm not trying to make you feel bad, I'm really not." She walked up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder and reaching up to kiss his cheek. "So, what about John Winchester?"

"Well, for a while I was on the road quite a bit with John and his son, Dean. We worked a few odd jobs together, security stuff, you know, like I've always done." Scott stopped again, disliking the taste of the half-truths on his tongue, then let out a sigh. "But I kind of lost track of them, went on working on my own. Then a few months ago, John's other son, Sam, called to let me know that John died. Complications from a bad car accident. All three of them were almost killed when their car got broadsided by a semi."

"Dad, I'm sorry."

Scott turned to look at his daughter. "It just made me realize, we never know what could happen, you know? And it kind of woke me up, made me think about the fact that I had let all this time go by, and that I missed you. That I don't want to lose touch with you again."

Devon slipped her arms around her father and he held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I love you, Dad. I'm sorry about John."

"I love you too, Devvy. And I'm sorry for going so long without seeing you. Sometimes I think you're just better off without me complicating your life. You have a good job, your life seems to be on track, and I've always just kind of drifted in and out-I just wasn't sure since you became an adult if you really wanted much to do with me."

"Don't be silly. If I didn't want anything to do with you, why would I be here in this luxurious resort spending time with you?" She smiled up at him, kissing his cheek again, and began helping put away their provisions. "So-grill tonight? Or should I make some pasta?"

* * *

"Dean, are you okay?"

An impatient sigh from the driver's seat told Sam his state of mind, even before he spoke. "Look, Sammy, you need to stop asking me if I'm okay. I'm as okay as I'm gonna get for now, okay?" Ever since he had opened up to his little brother about his fears that their dad had made a deal to save his life, Sam had been in one of his 'mothering' modes.

"Sorry. I'm just..."

"Worried about me, yeah, I get it. But let it go, Sam. I'm fine." Dean's voice closed the door on that subject, and Sam looked out the passenger window at the passing scenery, if it could be called that. Nebraska didn't have much exciting to offer in that regard, at least not driving along Highway 20.

"So why are we going to the Roadhouse?" Sam asked quietly, knowing his brother was already irritated.

"I just thought we'd check with Ash, see if he has anything for us. Aren't you curious?" Dean glanced over at Sam, then back at the mind-numbing sameness of the road.

"Yeah, I guess-I just figured he'd call if he had anything. I just thought maybe you wanted to see Jo again." Sam smiled a little as he spoke, waiting for Dean's reaction.

"Shut up, Sam. Ellen would have me stuffed and mounted if I touched her precious daughter." Not that he wouldn't love to-after all, she was pretty and female, and that was really all it took most days. But getting mixed up with Jo would cause no end of complications, and he definitely did not need more complications in his life.

"That's true," Sam agreed, and unscrewed the lid on his soda, draining the bottle and tossing it into the back seat, ignoring the sidelong glare his older sibling bestowed on him. If he was irritated at Sam, at least his mind wouldn't be dwelling on the guilt he felt over their father's death, and Sam was okay with that.

They stopped at a tiny town a couple of hours from their destination to fill the Impala, and Sam went inside to pay for the gas and pick up a few snacks and drinks for the rest of the trip. Dean was just pocketing his cell phone as he got back into the car.

"Change of plans, Sammy," he said, pulling away from the pump and pulling out onto the two-lane highway. "Instead of heading south at Valentine, we're going north."

"What's up?"

"Scott just called. He's up at his cabin north of Pierre, South Dakota, and he thinks there might be a werewolf problem."

"Scott Nolan?" Dean nodded in reply as he opened the soda his brother handed him, taking a couple of swallows and heading down the road to their new destination.

* * *

Devon shook her head as she watched her father staring out the window into the trees. "Dad-why don't you relax? What's the problem? You've been on edge ever since you went into town this morning."

Scott turned to look at his daughter. "Sorry, Devvy. It's just that some of the locals were talking about an animal attack last night. I'm just a little worried about having you out here. I don't think you should go out in the woods until they figure this thing out, okay?"

"Animal attack?"

"Yeah, something tore a farmer's throat out not far from here. They think it might be a wolf."

Devon looked up from her perch on the couch. Her dad looked really worried. "Okay, Dad, if it makes you feel better, I'll stay inside." He gave her a rather tight smile and nodded.

"Thanks, honey. I'd rather not have to worry about you out there. I promised the sheriff that I'd help patrol tonight, but you should be okay as long as you stay put."

"Why are you helping patrol? I don't want you out there with that thing, Dad!"

"Devvy, I do security work all the time, and I'm a deer hunter. They need someone who has experience with firearms, and I fit the bill. They only have so many deputies and rangers around here."

"What makes it okay that I have to worry about you, but you don't want to worry about me?"

"I'm your father, that's what," Scott answered, trying to sound as if he was joking, but there was an underlying note of steel in his voice that Devon recognized from her childhood.

"So much for my being an adult," she muttered under her breath, and looked up innocently when her father shot a questioning look her way.

"What?"

"Nothing, Dad. What do you want for supper?"

She fixed a simple meal for the two of them and reluctantly sent her father off to help the local authorities, resigned to spending the evening reading or watching a DVD by herself. She kept herself occupied for the majority of the night, but after dark she began to worry. She tried his cell phone, but reception was spotty in the area, so she didn't hold out much hope that he would pick up.

She went to the kitchen area to make herself a cup of tea, deciding that she would give him until 10:30 to check in or she would call the sheriff's office. There really wasn't much else she could do, but she had an uneasy feeling, and until she spoke to her father she wouldn't be able to shake it. The appointed time came and went, but she held off on making the phone call, knowing it would irritate her dad if she called the sheriff about him. But when 11 o'clock rolled around and she still hadn't heard from him, she cursed under her breath and grabbed her phone, dialing directory assistance to get the number.

"Sully County Sheriff's Department," a terse female voice answered.

"Yes, my name is Devon Nolan. I'm calling about my father, Scott-he was assisting your department tonight, helping patrol after the animal attack last night. I haven't heard from him since he left at around 6 p.m. tonight."

"Scott-what was the last name?"

"Nolan. Scott Nolan."

"Hold on." Devon waited impatiently, wandering around the cabin aimlessly while she was on hold. "Miss Nolan?" The woman's voice startled her, and she jumped, then shook her head at herself for her nervousness. "I'm sorry, but we have no record of a Scott Nolan doing any work for us. I spoke to the sheriff myself. Are you sure he was talking about Sully County?"

"You had the possible wolf attack last night, correct?"

"Yes, but that wasn't public knowledge. How did you hear about it?"

"My father told me this afternoon."

"Well, miss, I don't know where he got the information, but we aren't releasing any information on that case as of yet. And the sheriff's department doesn't normally recruit civilian assistance. Would you like to file a missing person report? We wouldn't be able to do anything until he's been gone for 24 hours, but we could get the paperwork started if you think there's a real problem."

"No, thank you. I'll check back with you if he doesn't show up." She ended the call, her brows drawn together in a frown. Why would he tell her he was assisting the sheriff? He was out there trying to hunt that wolf by himself, that was the only explanation. And if he made it back to the cabin in one piece, she was going to tear him a new one.

By 11:30, Devon was beside herself. She called her dad's phone every five minutes, hoping against hope that he would wander into an area that had cell reception. Frustrated and scared, she went to the fridge and grabbed a cold beer, removing the lid and throwing it at the far wall. She downed almost half the bottle at once, then plopped down at the table, setting the bottle down and reaching for her phone once again. But before she could dial, she heard a heavy step on the front porch and shoved the phone into her pocket. As she stood, apprehensive, to head for the front door, her father burst into the room, slamming the door behind him.

Startled, she jumped, knocking over her beer in her surprise. "Dad! Are you all right?" As she drew closer, her eyes widened in shock. His right arm hung useless at his side, mangled and bloody. He grabbed her arm with his good hand, gripping her so tightly it hurt. "Dad! You're hurting me!" She tried to pull away from him, but he was dragging her towards the storage closet.

"Devvy! Listen to me. Get in the closet. Don't make a sound. Do you hear me?"

"Dad!"  
"Devon!" Her father roared loudly enough to make her shrink back from him, as far as she was able with the grasp he had on her arm. "Just do what I tell you! Your life depends on it!"

Frightened like she had never been before, she nodded, tears in her eyes. "Okay, Dad." She stepped into the closet, and she heard him lock the door. "Dad!"

"Devvy, you have to be quiet, do you understand me? Don't make a sound, I don't care what you hear, I mean it." She heard him moving around outside her small prison, but couldn't make out what he was doing. She brushed a tear from her face with the back of her shaking hand, backing up a step and standing against the rear wall of the tiny room. And then she heard a loud crash, and a savage growl that sent a shiver of pure terror up her spine.

A shot rang out, the sound magnified by the confines of the cabin, and then there was silence for a few seconds. She heard more footsteps, and a man's voice that she had never heard before. "Scott! Damn it! What the hell were you doing?"

"Dean, please..." her father's voice wavered-it almost sounded like he was crying.

"Dean," another unfamiliar voice spoke, and the first man answered gruffly.

"Sammy-we have no choice."

Devon heard her father speak once more. This time, she knew he was crying, and she cowered in the closet, tears streaming down her face as she listened. "Dean, please. I'm begging you, son. Please..."

She heard the gunshot ring out, echoing loudly in the cabin, and her father spoke no more. She slid slowly down the wall of the closet until she was sitting huddled on the floor, her hand clasped over her mouth, terrified of making a sound. But what she really wanted to do was break down the heavy door that kept her captive and kill the man who had just shot her father-Dean Winchester.


	2. Chapter 2

Devon sat in the Sully County Sheriff's office, numb with shock and grief. She had called 911 after waiting for what seemed like an eternity locked in that closet, afraid every moment that the footsteps would thump again on the porch and they would discover her huddled in the corner of the closet. She waited for an hour after all the noises had stopped outside the door, just to be sure. And even then, when she dialed the phone, she was sure they would walk back in and hear her. One of the deputies had opened the door, and held out his hand to help her up, and she had fearfully stepped out expecting to see the mayhem left behind by the killers. But there was nothing. There was no blood, there were no bodies-not the creature she had heard, not her father.

She had reported everything that had happened to the police. She told them that her father made her hide in the closet and told her to be silent. She told them about the crash she heard as the door was broken down, and the growl that made her hair stand on end. And she told them about hearing her father beg for his life. She told them everything-everything but the names she had overheard. Everything but the fact that she knew exactly who had killed her father. That she held close, guarding the information for herself. Because she was going to be the one who took revenge on the heartless bastards who shot her wounded father.

The deputy who had taken her statement sat back down at his desk, his eyes sympathetic as he looked at Devon. Her face was tear-streaked and her eyes swollen, and she looked pale and exhausted. "Miss Nolan? Do you need a ride somewhere?"

She looked up into the young deputy's eyes. "If someone could give me a ride back to the cabin, I can get my dad's truck and go home to Brandon. I can't stay at the cabin."

"Well, I hope you don't mind my saying so, but you shouldn't drive until you get some sleep. You've had a shock, and you're pretty well worn out. I think maybe you should think about getting a motel room, stay until tomorrow, and then we can drive you out there."

With a weary sigh, Devon nodded in agreement. "Fine. I have my card with me, if you can drop me off at a motel, I'd appreciate it."

The sun was barely peeking up over the horizon as she walked out the door to the deputy's car. He drove her to the local motel and walked into the office with her, explaining to the clerk that she needed a room immediately (not that it should be a problem in this small town, she thought to herself), and asked that they not charge her extra for checking in early. She thanked him, and he put a hand on her shoulder as he turned to leave, compassion in his eyes. "Just call in the morning when you're ready to head out, someone will take you back out there, Miss Nolan." She nodded in answer and turned to pay for her room.

She went to her room, heading straight for the bathroom to wash her face, and ran her fingers through her hair. That was as good as it was going to get until she could retrieve her belongings from the cabin. She had seen a small café a block down from the motel, and she wanted a hot, strong cup of coffee before she laid down to attempt to sleep.

* * *

"So are we heading back to Harvelle's, Dean?" Sam asked, draining his coffee cup and smiling absently at the waitress as she refilled it. She refilled Dean's cup also, and he muttered a 'thanks' as she went back behind the counter.

"Yeah. I guess."

"Dean-you had no choice. He needed you to do it. Hell, he begged you to do it."

"I know, Sam. Doesn't make it any easier." He looked up at Sam, shaking his head. "If he would have just waited for us to get there, maybe..."

"But he didn't. There's no use thinking about it, Dean." His older brother nodded slowly.

A pretty little brunette walked in the door, ringing the old-fashioned bell hanging up above, and Dean's eyes followed her as she went to the counter and ordered a large coffee to go. Sam smiled a little at the spark in his brother's eyes and the slight raise of his eyebrow as he looked at the girl. His smile widened a little as he heard Dean mutter under his breath, "Cute." She looked up just then, and met his gaze. Her dark-fringed hazel eyes were beautiful, but something in her face stopped Dean from shooting her his usual 'how you doin'?' smirk. Instead, he sent a hint of a genuine smile her way. She looked sad; no, she looked wrecked, and he wished there was something he could do. He almost stood up to go and ask her if she needed help, but the waitress brought her coffee just then, and she paid for it and turned to leave, glancing at him one more time before walking out the door.

They finished their coffee and headed out, climbing into the Impala which was parked just across the street. Dean started the engine and backed out, driving back towards Nebraska and the Roadhouse, unable to get the haunted look in that girl's hazel eyes out of his mind.

* * *

Devon sipped at her coffee for a few moments, building up the courage to call her mother. She had to be told, but she dreaded it. Her parents had been divorced and estranged since she was five years old, but she knew her mom would still take the news hard. She finally took a deep breath and dialed the number, waiting for her mother's voice at the other end.

"Hi, Devon," her mom said cheerfully. "How's the big camping trip going?"

"Hi, Mom." The tears began before she got another word out, and she clenched her jaw as she struggled for control.

"Devon? What's wrong, honey?"

"Mom," Devon blurted, a sob in her voice, "Dad's dead."

"What?!" Now she heard her mother begin to cry. "What happened, Devon? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mom. I just-Dad was wounded by some kind of animal, and he came barging into the cabin and made me hide in a closet, and he locked me in, and then two men came in and they shot him, Mom." She spewed the whole story out with hardly a breath, then sobbed as her mother spoke, shock in her voice.

"Shot him? Why would they shoot him? And after he was attacked? Devon, I don't understand."

"I don't either, Mom. I don't understand any of it. But he locked me in that closet and told me to keep quiet no matter what I heard, that my life depended on it. I heard him shoot whatever that animal was. And I heard him beg those men for his life, Mom, but they shot him anyway." They were both crying, but Devon felt a small measure of relief now that the whole story had been told.

"Honey, I'll come and get you..."

"No, Mom-the police are taking me back out there in the morning to get my stuff and pick up Dad's Suburban. I'll drive it home. I just need to get some rest first."

"What about his body? Should I call the funeral home?"

"There isn't a body. When the police let me out of that closet, there was no trace of what had happened. I wonder if they think I'm crazy. Except that I couldn't have locked myself into that closet."

"Devon, I can come and get you. I don't know if you should drive..."

"Mom. I'll be fine to drive tomorrow. I just need to take a shower and get some sleep. It's okay, Mom. I'm going to let you go and I'll talk to you tomorrow when I get home, okay? I love you."

"I love you too, Devon."

They were both still crying when the call ended, but Devon felt better knowing she didn't have to explain when she got back to Brandon, she could just go home. And she really wanted to go home, to her own happy, safe, comfy little house where monsters didn't break down doors and ruthless killers didn't shoot people down in cold blood.

She took a quick shower, wrapping a towel around herself, a little frustrated at the lack of clean clothes. She finished her coffee, staring mindlessly at a talk show on the cheap television. Finally, in the early afternoon, she was feeling exhausted enough that she thought she might be able to sleep. She shed the towel and crawled between the sheets naked, sinking down into the pillows and closing her eyes. The sounds she had heard the night before kept playing over and over in her mind, so she reached for the remote and turned the television back on, trying her best to drown out the nightmarish memories long enough to get some rest.

* * *

"Scott Nolan?!" Ellen Harvelle shook her head, blinking hard to chase away tears. "He was a good man, boys. And a damn good hunter."

"He should have waited for us, Ellen." Dean's voice was hard, but she and Sam both knew it was to cover up the loss he was feeling. Scott had been one of his dad's best friends, one of very few who not only respected John as a hunter, but truly considered him a friend.

Sam accepted the shot of whiskey Ellen handed to him as he spoke. "Dean, you know you would have done the same thing. He was trying to prevent that thing from killing again."

Dean silently took the shot glass from Ellen and waited as she poured one for herself, the best whiskey the Roadhouse had to offer-Johnnie Walker Blue. She held her glass aloft for a moment, then said, "To Scott Nolan." All three downed their shots together, and all three slammed the shot glasses upside down on the bar as they finished. Ellen stowed the bottle, holding up a cold beer with a raised eyebrow, and Dean nodded. "Sam?" He nodded as well, and Ellen served them both, then dried her hands on the towel tucked into the waist of her blue jeans. "I wonder if anyone called his daughter."

Dean looked up, his jaw clenched. "He had a daughter?"

Ellen nodded. "Yeah. Devon. She's about Sam's age, I think, 23 or 24. So what did you do with his body?" she asked quietly.

"Hunter's funeral," Sam answered, then took a long swallow from the bottle. "He was pretty messed up, Ellen. And we had to shoot him..."

"I shot him, Sam. I looked into his eyes and I shot him." Dean bit off the words as if they had a bad taste to them.

"Dean-you had no choice," Ellen said, her voice almost harsh. "He wouldn't have wanted to live as one of those things, and you know it."

"He begged him to do it, Ellen," Sam said, and Ellen gave an understanding nod.

"Yeah, that makes me feel a whole lot better, Sam." Dean grabbed his beer and stood, walking to one of the tables in the back where he could sit and brood in peace.

"He'll be okay, Sam," Ellen said, laying a motherly hand on his arm. "It's hard, but you boys did the right thing."

"I know, Ellen." Sam took another drink and sighed, glancing over at his brother. Dean sat alone, his feet on the table, an unapproachable glower on his face.

* * *

Devon spent a very restless night, tossing and turning, waking from twisted and frightening dreams. The last time she awoke with a start, she glanced at the clock, which read 5:35, and she resigned herself to rising early. She lay there for a moment, only the end of the dream staying with her. She had been running from some unknown danger, running through the trees. And then, suddenly, she was opening the door to the little café down the street. She rushed in, still frightened, but something made her stop, and she slowly turned her head to look at the man sitting in a booth by the far wall. The last memory from her dream was looking over into his dark-lashed green eyes, and seeing a gentle smile curve his lips.

She crawled out of bed, reluctantly putting yesterday's clothes back on, and started coffee in the little two-cup pot on the vanity counter by the bathroom. She finger-combed her hair and turned on the television, sipping the awful motel coffee and waiting for a reasonable time to call the sheriff's office.

She called at around 7:30 and asked for Deputy Langley. He wasn't in yet, but she would have him call as soon as he came on duty. More waiting, so Devon made another pot of awful coffee and waited for her phone to ring.

By 8:30 they were on the road to the cabin, and the kind-hearted man had even brought her a decent cup of coffee. He looked over at her in the passenger seat and asked, "How are you doing, Miss Nolan?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "As well as can be expected, I guess," she answered, sending him a not-too-convincing excuse for a smile.

"Understandable." The rest of the ride was silent until they pulled in beside the Suburban in front of the cabin. The deputies had propped the door up when they left the night before, and Devon sighed looking at it. She would have to find someone to fix it, or the whole place would be full of wild creatures. "This is a real nice cabin. Wouldn't mind having a place like this myself," the deputy said as they exited the car.

"I'll be selling it, if you're interested. I won't ever be coming back here," Devon answered as he wrestled the door out of the way to allow them entry.

"Do you have some tools? I'll nail this in place from inside, and we can leave by the back door. At least it'll be secure then," he offered. Devon nodded and went to get the things he needed from under the sink.

She gathered her belongings, and her father's, as Deputy Langley fastened the door in place. She was numb, and was almost thankful for that at the moment. The deputy helped her carry everything out to her father's vehicle, and she thanked him gratefully. She pulled the keys from her pocket and handed them to him. "In case you need to get in again, for the investigation." She looked at the ground. "I know there's not much hope of finding anything, but will you please let me know if you do?"

He put a kind hand on her shoulder and smiled sympathetically. "Of course, Miss Nolan. You drive carefully, now. And once again, I'm very sorry for your loss." Devon nodded in answer, and climbed into the driver's seat. She followed the deputy's car down the drive and turned east when they reached the highway to begin the three-hour drive back home.


	3. Chapter 3

Devon dropped her bag inside the door, heading back to the Suburban for another load. She knew once she sat down and let the weight of everything that had happened settle on her, she wouldn't move for a while. So she unloaded the car, and started some laundry, and puttered around unpacking and putting things away, postponing the emotions that were waiting to bombard her.

She finally gave in, pouring herself a glass of Irish whiskey and dropping down on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table. And the replay began in her head, again. "Dean, please. I'm begging you, son. Please..." And the gunshot. And the silence.

And the other voice. "Scott! Damn it!" "Sammy, we have no choice." That voice she would know anywhere if she heard it again. A deep, rich male voice that haunted her now. Devon downed half of her glass in one gulp and let her head drop back to rest on the couch. How could he walk in, see a badly injured man and kill him instead of calling for help? How could you listen to someone, a friend, beg for their life and still look into their face and shoot them in cold blood? What kind of person was this Dean Winchester? Her dad had spoken of the Winchester boys and their father with affection. Apparently they hadn't felt the same way about him.

She called her mother to let her know she was at home, pleading exhaustion to get off of the phone. She wasn't lying. But she was putting off going to bed, knowing the nightmares would be waiting for her. So instead, she poured another glass of whiskey and waited for it to numb her enough to lie down, to try to sleep. She grabbed her laptop from the table and started searching; Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester. She came up with nothing useful. She closed her eyes, trying to think of any details her father had mentioned. Kansas-they were from Kansas originally. This time a reference to an old news story from November, 1983. Mary Winchester, Lawrence, Kansas, killed in a house fire. Leaves behind a husband, John, and two sons-Dean, 4, and Sam, 6 months.

Frustrated, she closed the laptop and shook her head. This was getting her nowhere. She toyed with the idea of hiring a private investigator, but that was an expensive option, and she mentally placed it on the back burner. She finished her second glass of whiskey and laid down on the couch, turning on the tv as background noise to drown out the voices in her head as she closed her eyes.

* * *

"Look, Sam, we're going to Bobby's. Maybe he can find something out about this psychic thing you've got. Ash doesn't have anything yet, Bobby might be able to help."

Sam let out an impatient sigh. "Dean, I don't think Bobby can help with this one. But if it'll make you feel better, knock yourself out."

Dean stared straight ahead, his lips pressed tightly together in frustration. Something weird was going on with his little brother, and he was trying like hell not to let him see how worried he was about it. Bobby knew stuff neither of them ever heard of, and his dad had gone to him countless times for help, so that was good enough for Dean. They had Ash looking for answers on the tech side of things, Bobby could help on the old-school side. He hoped.

"Besides, Sammy-maybe he's got a line on the Colt."

"Yeah. Maybe."

Unfortunately, Bobby had nothing new for them, but Dean was glad to be there. He wanted his brother to relax, to let go of his obsession with finding the other 'special kids' like him. He had been too intense lately, too sure that he was going to turn into something that Dean refused to believe he could be. He would not accept the idea that Sammy could go 'dark side', that he might have to kill him, which his father warned him about before he died. He wouldn't believe it, and he wouldn't let it happen.

Dean left Sam with Bobby and headed into Sioux Falls to restock their ammo supply, and pick up some beer. He left the two of them, each with their heads in a book, looking for any clue as to what might be coming down the road for them. He took one last look at Sam, wishing like hell he was still studying for his law exams instead of reading up on demons, before turning and leaving the house.

Bobby's place was on the edge of Sioux Falls, and Dean's favorite gun and ammo shop was right in the middle of town. He pulled the Impala into a parking spot about a block away and locked the door as he got out, pocketing the key. There was a smudge or scratch on the front fender, and he bent to look closer, licking a finger and rubbing at the spot, which luckily disappeared. He was a little overprotective of Baby after all the time it had taken to rebuild her. As he straightened, he froze for a moment, surprised to see the girl he'd seen at the café in Onida. She was coming out of the gun shop, a package in her hands, and she looked as if she was on a mission. He opened his mouth to say something, but she was a block away, and he didn't even know her name. He moved down the sidewalk quickly, watching as she climbed behind the wheel of a nondescript little Ford sedan. He stared at the license plate, grabbing his cell phone as he repeated the plate number over and over to himself, waiting for Sam to answer his phone.

"Dean? What's up?"

"Sammy! Call this plate in for me! 6AV 103."

"Dean? What's going on?"

"Sam! Just do it! 6AV 103."

"South Dakota plates?"

"Yes! Do it now, Sam!"

"Okay, okay! Calm down. I'll call it in, you can go pick up our supplies and hopefully I'll have it when you get back to Bobby's, all right? Jeez!" And Sam hung up the phone. Dean pocketed his phone, watching the girl's blue Ford make its way down the four-lane and disappear into traffic.

* * *

Devon drove down the street, heading back north towards Brandon. She glanced a little nervously at the seat beside her where the bag containing her purchases lay. In the bag was a new Glock 17 pistol and .45 caliber ammo, and she took a deep breath, hardly believing she had actually just bought a gun.

The owner of the shop had shown her how to load it, and recommended a firing range near Brandon where she could go to practice. She stopped for a moment with that thought; practice shooting, for the purpose of shooting another human being. She took a shaky breath, fighting back tears. No, she was not going to let her conscience talk her out of this. They had put her father down like a rabid dog, and she couldn't live with that. She couldn't let them live their lives like nothing had happened. And they were obviously bad news, anyway-otherwise, why would they have scrubbed the crime scene, and how had they gotten so efficient at it?

She mentally argued and rationalized with herself all the way home, putting the gun in the lock box she had purchased and placing the box of ammo in the drawer of her bedside table. Then she took a deep breath and left to meet her mother for lunch.

As they were sitting at the restaurant, Devon's phone rang. She smiled apologetically at her mother as she grabbed it and answered. It was Deputy Langley.

"Miss Nolan? I just wanted to let you know-we think we found your father's remains. It looks like they had-and this is going to sound weird-a funeral pyre. And not too far from that, we found the body of a man, looks to have been shot."

Devon stood up from the table and went outside, taking a couple of gulps of fresh air as she leaned against the building.

"Miss Nolan? Are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm-I'm okay." She was lying. Her heart was racing, and her stomach was churning.

"How many shots did you say you heard? You said they shot your father once?"

"Yes."

"But you said your father shot an animal, before he was killed?"

"Yes." Devon's head was spinning a little, and she crossed the sidewalk to drop down to the little bench there.

"Well, unfortunately, the fire will have destroyed ballistic evidence. What remains are left we will get to the mortuary, they'll be contacting you." He paused for a moment, then continued in a kinder, less business-like tone. "I'm sorry to give you this kind of news, Miss Nolan. I know this has been traumatic. Make sure you talk to someone, like we discussed at the station, all right?"

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate the information, Deputy."

* * *

Dean got back to Bobby's, carrying the supplies into the house and putting the beer into the fridge after grabbing cold ones for himself, Sam and Bobby. He tossed one Sam's way and set Bobby's on the desk in front of him, and Bobby mumbled his thanks, still reading.

"Sam-what'd you find out about those plates?"

Sam looked up, distracted, his head still in the book he had been absorbed in. "Huh?"

"The plates? The car I asked you to call in? What'd they say?"

Sam rubbed at his eyes and leaned back in his chair, opening his beer and taking a long swallow. "The car belongs to Devon Nolan, Dean. It's Scott's daughter."

"That...is Scott's daughter?" Dean blew out a breath, his eyebrows raised as he took a seat. "Why was she in Onida so soon after..."

"Her dad's death? I don't know. Maybe she was there with him, or maybe she was coming to meet him."

"Think she knows?"

"About him hunting?" Bobby spoke up. "No. He never told his wife when they were married, and Devon was only 4 or 5 when they split. I'd be shocked if he ever told his daughter, he only saw her once or twice a year. He always told your dad and I that he never wanted them around all..." Bobby waved his hand, indicating all the books and paraphernalia, "this crap."

"So as far as she knows, her dad just never showed up to meet her, or just disappeared into thin air." Dean took a drink of his beer, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees. "That was why she looked so lost at the diner. She's probably going crazy trying to find him. So-do we approach her, let her know that he's dead? Or stay the hell away?"

Bobby pinned Dean with a steady stare. "Miles away would be my suggestion. It'll be easier for her to move on not knowing what really happened to Scott. And there are plenty of other girls out there, Dean. Maybe you should just let this one go."

"I agree, Dean," Sam said, looking his brother in the eye.

Dean gazed back at him for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right." He drained the rest of his beer, standing up and raising an eyebrow at Sam, gesturing with the bottle. "Want another?" Sam shook his head, and Dean walked to the kitchen, his empty bottle making a thud as he tossed it in the trash and headed to the fridge for another.

Dean kept himself busy that day, and the next, but Devon's face still haunted him. He finally told Sam and Bobby he was going for a drive, and before he could talk himself out of it, he was driving into Brandon. "Awesome, Winchester, you've now become a stalker," he muttered to himself as he pulled in at the curb across the street from her address, a small house on the corner lot with a decent yard and a garage in back. The car was in the driveway, so she was home. Dean shook his head, puzzled at his own actions. Tonight he needed to hit the bars, hook up with a good-looking girl and forget about this one that was plaguing his thoughts. He had almost talked himself into leaving when Devon came out of the house.

She walked out onto the small deck at the back of the house, carrying a glass of something and a book. She sat down, putting her bare feet up on the lounge chair and opening the book. After a few minutes, she snapped the book closed and let her head drop to the back of the chair, her eyes closed. She put a hand up to her neck, rubbing it and moving her head around as if to relieve the tension. Then she sat up, leaning forward and putting her face in her hands, and Dean felt guilt eat at him as he watched her shoulders begin to shake as she cried.  
He ran a hand roughly through his tousled hair, his jaw clenched. Maybe they should have at least left the body there, at least she would know for sure that he was gone. If Scott had just waited a little longer, he and Sam could have helped him get rid of that werewolf, and he'd still be alive, spending time with her. And if he had listened to Bobby and Sam, he wouldn't be sitting here right now feeling like such a scumbag. Frustrated with himself and the whole situation, he reached for the key and started the Impala. Devon looked up at the sound, brushing away her tears, and for a second their eyes met.

Dean saw her eyes widen a little in recognition, and then a puzzled frown began to form on her brow. He pulled away from the curb, watching in his mirror as she walked to the railing on the deck and stared at him driving away.

* * *

Devon watched the black Impala drive slowly down the street away from her, then turned and hurried into the house, grabbing the nearest scrap of paper and jotting down the license: KAZ Y25. That was the guy from the café in Onida, the one who kept showing up in her nightmares with his stunning green eyes and his enigmatic smile, making her heart beat a little faster from something other than the fear that permeated the rest of the dream. But now an uneasy feeling was settling over her as she grabbed the scrap of paper and her car keys. She started the car and drove downtown to the police station, hoping her friend Bonnie was working the afternoon shift.

She was in luck, and Bonnie didn't seem to be too busy, so she walked to her desk and sat down. "Devon! I haven't seen you since you got back-I'm so sorry to hear about your dad." She rose from her chair, tucking a blond curl behind her ear, and bent to hug Devon.

"Thanks," Devon said quietly as Bonnie sat back down. "I think I'm still in shock. They found the remains, so we'll be having a service sometime soon." Her friend nodded, compassion in her eyes. "Bonnie-I know you're not supposed to, and I don't want to get you in trouble, but I need a favor."

"Of course, Devon-how can I help?"

"Can you tell me who owns this car?" She pulled the slip of paper from her pocket and handed it across the desk.

Bonnie typed the license number into the database and waited for the search results. "Is there something going on, Devon? Do you need to talk to an officer?"

Devon shook her head. "No, this is just someone I've seen around, and I'm just curious."

Bonnie smiled. "Nice way to track down a cute guy, Devon."

Devon's cheeks colored a little as she smiled back. "No, that's not it. Well, he really is attractive, but that's not why I'm asking."

"Whatever you want to tell yourself, honey," her friend teased, and the results of the search came up on the screen. "There we are. Those are Kansas plates, and your 'attractive' friend's name is Dean Winchester." She looked up to see Devon's face had gone chalk white. "Devon! Are you all right?"

Devon heard her as if from a distance, nodding absently. "Yeah-I'm okay. Thanks, Bonnie." She stood and left without another word, leaving Bonnie confused and a little worried behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

Devon stood, head held high, tears streaming down her face as the gunshots echoed through the cemetery. Each volley renewed the sounds as the former gunshots faded slowly, and with each volley Devon flinched almost imperceptibly. Not that the sounds startled her-that wasn't the reason at all. But each time the uniformed detail fired, she heard the shot that had ended her father's life. A lone Marine stood a little farther in the distance, and began playing 'Taps' as the last of the gunshots drifted into silence.

She sat down, her mother's arm draped around her shoulders, and watched as the flag was removed from her father's coffin and folded in the traditional ceremony. She had insisted that he have a coffin, not just an urn, to be buried in. Her mother had argued gently with her, trying to save her the expense, she knew-but she didn't care. He deserved a hero's funeral, and she made sure he got one. He had been a U.S. Marine, and she wanted him remembered for that, at least.

She raised her head proudly as the young Marine presented the flag to her, letting her tears flow freely as he spoke. "This flag is presented on behalf of a grateful nation and the United States Marines as a token of appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service." He stepped back, snapping his heels together, and saluted before coming back to attention and turning to leave her.

Devon stood afterwards with her mother, thanking the friends and acquaintances that had attended the service. Not many of them knew Scott Nolan, at least not well, but they came for her, and she was touched. She hugged her friend, Bonnie, and smiled at her gratefully as Bonnie held her hands. "Please call me, Devon," she said, "anytime you need to talk, okay? I'm here for you." Devon nodded, her eyes taking in the peaceful calm of the cemetery, the breeze barely stirring the leaves on the trees. Then her smile slowly faded, the color leaving her face, and Bonnie squeezed her hand, concerned. "Are you all right, Devon? Do you need to sit down?"

Devon pulled her hands away from her friend and took a step towards the street. Her heart was racing, and she could feel her blood pressure rising as she saw the shiny black Impala parked a short distance away. She saw the man in the passenger seat reach a hand to touch the driver's shoulder, even as her gaze met the driver's eyes. She was shaking with fury at their insolence. How dare they show their faces at her father's funeral, at the event that they had caused? She took another step as the car pulled away from the curb, slowly rumbling down the street. Those green eyes captured her gaze again as he drove by, never breaking their contact until the car had passed by her and headed towards the highway.

"Devon, are you okay? Who was that?" Bonnie asked, grabbing her arm. She turned to face her friend, taking a deep breath.

"Those were a couple of my Dad's friends," she said, trying to swallow her emotions. "Remember that car I had you trace? It was them. Bonnie, I need a huge favor. The Winchesters were good friends of my Dad's, and Dad had left something for them, but I have no idea how to contact them. Can you find out where they are? No emergency or anything, and I know it's asking a lot, but is it possible?"  
Bonnie stared back at her friend, still concerned. "You seem upset, Devon. Are you sure..."

"I'm just frustrated that I couldn't catch them before they left, that's all," Devon said, ignoring the twinge of her conscience as she lied to her friend. "It's really important that I make contact with them. It would mean a lot-would have meant a lot-to my dad."

"Okay, honey. I'll see what I can do. Any idea what area they're from?"

"I've seen them in Sioux Falls, but that's as close as I can come. Their names are Sam and Dean Winchester."

"So that's the plate you had me run. I'll contact Sheriff Mills, she's a friend of mine. I'll let you know if I learn anything." Bonnie's concerned eyes scanned Devon's impassive face. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine, Bonnie. Just need to get some rest. Now that the funeral is behind me, I'm sure things will calm down." Devon forced a smile and turned to her mother. "Mom-are you ready?" Her mother nodded, and they strolled arm-in-arm to their car. Devon turned once more, watching as the casket lowered slowly into its final resting place. Then she fished her keys out of her purse and sat behind the wheel, starting the engine as her mother closed her door.

* * *

"I told you that was a bad idea," Sam said as they turned onto the highway and Dean stepped on the gas, wanting to quickly get as far away from the cemetery as he could. "She saw us, Dean, and she didn't look happy."

"Of course she wasn't happy, she was at her dad's funeral," Dean snapped back, speeding towards Sioux Falls, his guilt eating at his gut.

"Dean, she was pissed. Like she knew who we were."

"How could she know? She's never seen us before." Another twist of guilt as he lied, once again, to his brother. But he couldn't tell him about being in Brandon, couldn't listen to the inevitable lecture if Sam found out.

"You saw her in Onida at the café. You saw her in Sioux Falls the other day-maybe she saw you too. Maybe she thinks you're stalking her or something." Dean sighed impatiently, but made no further reply, and Sam shook his head. "It wasn't your fault, you know. It wasn't our fault. Scott didn't want to live as a monster, you know that."

Dean's glare should have melted the windshield, but he still refused to answer. Instead, his foot pressed even further towards the floor as the Impala sped down the road, and Dean reached to turn up the volume of the music blasting from the speakers.

When they pulled into the salvage yard, Dean slammed the driver's side door and was halfway to the house before Sam had a chance to get out of the car. For a moment he felt like a little kid again, always scrambling to keep up with his big brother. But then his temper kicked in, and he followed after Dean, his long strides taking him up the front steps in one bound. Dean turned, surprised, as he flung the door closed with a loud bang.

"Hey! Take it easy, you two!" Bobby shouted from the next room, and soon he was standing in the doorway. "What the hell is going on now?" he asked, a thunderous frown on his bearded face.

"Nothing," Dean grumbled, downing half of his beer in one gulp. "Sam is just being a pain in my ass."

"Likewise," Sam snapped back at his brother, grabbing a cold brew from the fridge and opening it, firing the cap into the trash. "He insisted on going by Scott's funeral today. And his daughter saw us. I don't think she liked it that we were there."

Bobby was shaking his head. "Considering the circumstances, that was a damn fool move to make, don't you think? Didn't we have a conversation about staying away from that girl?"

Dean shot a glare Bobby's way. "You and Sam had a conversation. And what's wrong with paying our respects to Scott? He was one of Dad's only friends, Bobby."

"You could have gone by the cemetery any time for that, Dean, and you know it. Why can't you just let Scott's daughter be? Even if she wanted anything to do with you, what makes you think she wouldn't hate you for killing her father? What are you thinking, boy?"

"He's not thinking, Bobby, that's the problem," Sam said, and Dean sent a green-eyed stare his way.

"You'd better back off, Sammy," he growled.

"You'd better make me, Dean," he answered, setting his beer on the kitchen table, and then Bobby was there, between them, a hand on each one's chest.

"That's enough, boys." Bobby's voice was quiet, but both men could tell he meant business, and they relaxed from their alpha male posturing. Dean took another drink from his beer and pulled out a chair, dropping into it with a frustrated sigh. "What's going on with you, son? Why can't you let this go?"

Dean reached up and scratched the back of his head, then rubbed his neck roughly. He had that angry scowl on his face that sent Bobby back to the boys' younger days, when Dean would get reamed out from John for something he didn't do or couldn't have prevented. It had happened often, and Bobby was still angry at John for what it had done to his eldest son. He looked up at Bobby, shrugging his shoulders slightly, then shaking his head. "I don't know, Bobby. For some reason, I feel like I need to...help her, or something. I know you said I should stay away, but I've got this feeling, like I'm supposed to...I don't know..."

"Dean, you feel guilty. That's all it is." Sam sat down across from his brother, his anger gone as quickly as it had come. "You can't help what happened, Dean, and we can't change it, either."

"Then why did I have that feeling when I saw her in Onida, Sam? I didn't even know who she was." Dean stared across the table at Sam, who finally shrugged and shook his head.

"You said she was cute, remember? Maybe you were just attracted to her," Sam argued quietly.

"No, Sammy. When she looked at me that day, it felt different. Like there was a connection or something." Dean shoved the chair back from the table and went after another beer. "I don't know, I know it sounds crazy. But that's what it feels like."

"Well, I don't know about all that," Bobby said calmly, "but I think you need to stay clear of her, Dean. At least for now." Dean stood at the fridge, one hand on the door, his head down. "Boy? Are you hearing me?"

Dean took a breath, opening the door and grabbing a beer. "Yeah, Bobby. I'm hearing you." He tossed his lid in the trash and walked towards the door. "I'll stay away from her, at least for now." Then he opened the door and headed outside. Sam and Bobby's eyes met, and Sam shook his head silently.

* * *

Devon spent the next afternoon at the shooting range. She had known Tom Spader, the owner, her whole life, and she was comfortable with him showing her the ropes with her new pistol. He went over the basics with her, the stance, loading and unloading the gun; then he set up the targets and left her alone. "Yell if you need anything, Devon," he said, "I'll be in the office."

She put on the ear protection and aimed carefully, fired, and missed the target completely. Then she clenched her teeth, aimed again, and tried to adjust for the recoil. By the time she had emptied the magazine, she was getting fairly close to the center of the target. She removed the earmuffs, staring at the target and the holes her bullets had torn through it. "And you want to do this to human beings," her conscience prodded. She raised her chin defiantly, murmuring to herself, "They did it to Dad. They deserve the same."

Her cell phone rang as she pulled into her driveway, and she grabbed it, looking at the unfamiliar number, before answering. "Hello?"

"Is this Devon Nolan?"

"Yes-who's this?"

"Sheriff Jody Mills, Minnehaha County. Bonnie said you wanted to contact Sam and Dean Winchester?"

"Yes, Sheriff, they were friends of my father's, and he just passed away. I have something for them from him, but I didn't know where to find them." She pushed down the twinge of guilt-after all, she hadn't lied.

"Well, they stay with a friend when they're in the area, Bobby Singer. He owns a big auto salvage yard on the south edge of town. Just take the Louise Avenue exit off 229, go south. You can't miss it. Big sign that says 'Singer Salvage.'"

"Sheriff Mills, thank you so much. I appreciate your help." She hung up, pocketed the phone, and took her gun into the house, putting it back into the lock box and pouring herself a shot of whiskey, surprised to find her hands shaking. She let the voices from her memory have free rein, hearing her father beg, hearing that final gunshot-then she downed the whiskey, determination in her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Devon went to the firing range faithfully after her father's funeral, spending hours at a time honing her skills until she was finally satisfied at the progress she'd made. Being a marksman was not her goal, after all. She just wanted to be able to hit a man-sized target, and she was fairly good at that.

After a couple of weeks spending most of her time away from work at the range, she took a leave of absence from her job. She avoided telling her mother to avoid explanations, and began to drive to Sioux Falls every day. She parked outside the fence at Singer Salvage, watching the Winchesters and the older man who owned the salvage yard, but they had no set pattern for her to follow. She went home after a few days of fruitless surveillance, frustrated at the lack of progress. As she showered and got ready for bed that night, she debated her options and made a decision. The next night she would follow through with her plan. Whatever it took, the next night the Winchesters would pay for what they'd done to her father.

Late the next afternoon, she dressed in dark clothing and put her hair up under a ball cap. She had rented a car earlier in the day, hoping it would help her avoid detection. She drove to Sioux Falls and parked in her usual spot, peering through a gap in the cars to watch any activity. The brothers were throwing what appeared to be duffle bags in the trunk of their black Impala. So they were leaving, which was exactly what she had been afraid of.

She hurried back to her rental, sitting behind the wheel with the window down, listening for the sound of that powerful engine. When the Impala pulled out of the driveway, she followed it at what she hoped was a safe distance, staying back as far as she dared without losing sight of them.

After taking I-29 north for a few miles, they took the Madison exit, and she managed to stay with them as they pulled into a cheap motel at the edge of town. She drove around the block once, then cruised by slowly. The Impala was alone in the lot, other than the owner's pickup truck, which probably didn't indicate a high quality of comfort. Devon parked behind the building and got out of the car, peering around the corner as the men carried their belongings into the room. Immediately after that, they got back into the car and left, she presumed to pick up food or booze. She didn't really care; it gave her an opportunity to get into the room unseen.

She tried the door, just in case, but it was locked. The window facing the front of the motel was also locked, so she hoped for the best as she walked around to the rear. There was a sliding window at the back of the room, and she pulled on the screen, which was already falling apart. It landed in pieces at her feet, and she checked the lock on the window. It was either broken or unlatched, and she blew out a nervous breath as she climbed in and closed the window behind her. "Definitely not a four-star joint," she muttered, looking around the dingy, ugly room for the best spot to ambush the two men. She wanted to take them out as they entered the room, if possible. She shook her head at those words-'take them out.' She felt poisoned by the hate she was feeling, by the thought of what she was about to do. But she took a deep breath, deliberately drowning out the voice inside her that was telling her she was stark raving crazy. Instead she focused on her memories of that night in the cabin once again, feeding her anger; and checking her gun, she settled in to wait in the semi-darkness for the Winchesters to return.

Before the hour was up, Devon heard the beast of a car rumble into the lot and park in front of the room. She took a deep breath, trying not to shake as she waited for them to enter.

Sam Winchester was the first one through the door. Devon took her stance and brought up her arms, taking aim. Dean started into the room after his brother, but a glint of light reflecting off the barrel of her gun alerted him and he shouted, "Sammy, gun!" and shoved his brother roughly aside as the shot rang out. And then he charged at her, slamming her into the wall so hard it knocked the breath from her lungs.

When the stars had stopped dancing in front of her eyes, she found herself pinned against the wall, Dean's right forearm across her chest, his body pressed up against her, preventing her from any movement, and her wrist held fast in his other hand. One little squeeze of his fingers on the pressure points, and she cried out in pain, her gun hitting the floor with a thud. "Get the lights, Sam," he growled, kicking her gun across the floor. Devon blinked rapidly in the newly bright room, then felt icy terror flood through her at the murderous gleam in his green eyes and the savage snarl curving his lips. He dropped her wrist and snatched the hat from her head, letting her hair spill down around her shoulders.  
"Dean! That's..."

"I know." The expressions on his face-anger, shock, frustration, confusion-faded into one another almost faster than she could follow. "You're Devon Nolan?" She nodded slowly. "What the hell are you doing here? Why are you shooting at us?"

She felt the color rise back into her cheeks at his question, and hatred glowed in her eyes. "Why the hell do you think I'm shooting at you? You killed my father, you son of a bitch!" She began to struggle against his restraint, and quickly realized that he hadn't been holding her as tightly as he could have been. "You're hurting me," she ground out between clenched teeth, glaring hotly at him.

"Then hold still. Did you really expect to come into our room and shoot at us, and not get hurt?" She swung at him, aiming a blow for his face, but he grabbed her wrist again in his free hand, holding it against the wall, and moving his forearm up against her throat. She choked, and he lowered it again, his teeth clenched in frustration as he spoke. "Now stop. I don't want to hurt you."

"Dean." Sam spoke quietly behind them, and Dean gave an impatient sigh.

"What, Sammy? I'm a little busy here."

"Dean, we don't have time for this right now. We kind of have a time issue, remember? To take care of that thing we're taking care of. That we can only do tonight."

"Damn it!" Dean cursed softly, then looked into Devon's hate-filled eyes. "I know you're not going to believe me, but I really don't want to hurt you. I just don't have time to explain. So I'm sorry." With those words, he drew back and clipped her sharply on the jaw, and she dropped, unconscious, into his waiting arms.

* * *

Devon woke slowly, her head pounding. A little confused, she struggled to open her eyes. Her jaw ached fiercely, and she instinctively tried to put her hand to the injury. She couldn't move her hands... Her eyes flew open as memory returned in a flash, and she raised her head gingerly to look up at her hands, which were bound together and tied to the brass rail at the head of the bed she was lying on. There was a gag in her mouth, so there would be no shouting for help, either.

"Great, Devon. Just great. Some avenging angel you turned out to be," she thought bitterly to herself. She tugged at the rope, but there was no way she was getting out of her bonds. Angrily, she flung herself back onto the pillow, wincing at the pain that shot through her head as she did so. What had made her think that three weeks of practice at a shooting range could prepare her for this? She had been way out of her league, and she knew it, but chose to blunder her way through anyway. And now she'd probably be joining her father, and no one would ever know what had happened to her.

She heard the Impala pull up outside some time later, and every muscle in her body tensed. Now that they were finished with whatever other activity, probably criminal, they had been involved in before she showed up, who knew what they would have in store for her. She trembled in fear, trying to keep her emotions under control. The last thing she wanted was for them to think she was cowering in fear because of them.

They walked into the room, and Dean turned away from her, removing his jacket and emptying his pockets. Sam shed his jacket and came closer to her, holding up a bottle of water, his eyebrows raised. "Will you be quiet if I take out the gag? I'm sure you're thirsty, and we need to talk. But if you yell, we'll have to put it back. Understand?" His voice was almost gentle, and there was a hint of kindness in his eyes, as much as she hated to admit it to herself. She nodded slowly, her head still pounding.

He helped her sit up against the head of the bed, adjusting her tether to allow her to take the bottle and drink on her own. Then he took a seat on the bed across from her, soon joined by his brother. "Sorry I had to clock you," Dean said quietly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great," she snapped, her voice raspy.

"Look, I know we seem like the world's biggest dicks right now, but I need you to listen. There are things you don't know, about us, about your dad. About the whole damn world, actually."

"I know all I need to know. You're cold-blooded killers. You shot my father while he begged you for his life." Devon's eyes filled with tears, and she valiantly fought to keep them from falling.

Dean looked up, and the pain in his eyes surprised her. "How do you know that?"

"Does it matter?" He just continued looking at her, and she dropped her gaze to her lap, allowing a tear to escape and trickle aimlessly down her cheek. "I was in the closet. Dad came into the cabin, all bloody, his arm was a mess. And he shoved me into the closet and told me that I had to stay quiet. That my life depended on it."

"And then what?" She looked up again at Dean, disbelief in her eyes. She glared at him angrily through her tears and continued.

"And then something broke the door down, and I heard a-a growl, a terrifying sound. And a gunshot, I think my father shot whatever it was that came in." Her tears were falling now, and she was angry at herself for her lack of control. "And then I heard you come in. And I heard him beg you for his life. And I heard you shoot him." Her voice broke, and she fought for control.

"He wasn't begging for his life, Devon. He was begging Dean to shoot him." Devon's head snapped up as she looked at Sam, who had spoken softly. "It's true, Devon."

"I know his arm was a mess, but people live through worse things than that. Why would you do it? All you had to do was call 911, get him some help!"

"There was nothing anyone could do to help him, Devon." Dean's voice was gruff, and she met his eyes, amazed again at the torment she saw there. "He was asking me to end his life. He was my dad's best friend, and he was asking me to kill him, because he didn't want to live as the monster he would have become."

"What are you talking about?!"

"The thing that broke the door down, that sound you heard? That was a werewolf. The same thing that killed that farmer the night before your dad died. He attacked Scott, and once you're bitten there's no cure."

Devon stared back at Dean, shock and disbelief on her face. "You're crazy."

"That might be. But it's true." His eyes never wavered from her stare, and she heard the echoes of her memories in her mind again. This time, she heard the choked sound of his voice. "Scott! Damn it! What the hell were you doing?" The anguish in his words. "Sammy, we have no choice." And the affection in her father's voice. "Dean, please. I'm begging you, son."

Sam handed Devon the box of tissues from the night stand between the beds as her shoulders shook from her silent sobs. She curled her body into a fetal position, turning her back on the men as she cried, shock and disbelief slowly being overtaken by the realization that Dean was telling her the truth, as insane as that seemed. She felt a hand on her shoulder and flinched away. "Leave me alone," she cried softly, and the hand withdrew. She heard Dean's voice again, almost gentle this time.

"We'll give you a little time, Devon. Then we'll be back." The door closed behind them as they stepped outside the room and she hugged the box of tissues to herself, harsh sobs racking her body.

Outside, Dean bent down in the gravel parking lot, grabbing a handful of stones and standing to fire them one at a time into the distance. Sam took a breath to speak, but Dean turned to look at him, shaking his head. "Don't, Sam-just don't. Don't say anything." Sam nodded slowly, leaning back onto the Impala, his arms folded, silently watching his brother.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam opened the door to the motel room slowly, sticking his head in and speaking softly. "Devon? Are you all right?" He looked over to see her sitting up, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

"Can you untie me now?" she asked, and Sam approached her, an apologetic look on his face.

"Yeah, sorry. I was going to do that before, but..." She sat up wordlessly, leaning forward so he had access to the ropes that bound her hands. Rather than fumble with the knots, he pulled out a rather large pocket knife. "Hold still," he said as she glanced first at the knife, then at him, and she nodded. When she was free, she turned to sit at the edge of the bed, rubbing her wrists absently as Sam put his knife away.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm just about as far away from okay as I've ever been," she said quietly. Her hand rose to her face, and she winced as she touched the growing bruise on her jaw.

"Want some ice for that?" Devon looked up to see Dean in the doorway, one eyebrow raised in query. He walked into the room, grabbing the plastic ice bucket from the table, and turned to leave. He returned a moment later, going into the bathroom for a towel to make an ice pack, then holding it out to her wordlessly.

She hesitated for a moment, then took the towel from him and held it to her jaw, looking up at him. "So now what? You just let me go?"

He made a derisive little noise and stared back at her. "What did you think was gonna happen?"

She glared back at him. "A little while ago, I thought you were going to kill me."

"A little while ago I thought about it," he said hotly, and felt Sam's hand on his arm.

"Dean..." Sam said quietly, and Dean sat down next to his brother on the bed across from Devon.

"Look," he said more calmly, "I know this whole situation bites. And I know you hate my guts right now. But we're not holding you hostage, so if you want to go to the cops, I guess that's your choice. I am holding on to your gun for now, though. Just in case you get another urge to blow our heads off."

Devon stood slowly, dropping the ice pack on the bed. "Don't worry. I won't be trying that again." She walked to the door, stopping to turn as Dean said her name.

"Devon? I'm sorry." His green-eyed gaze was genuine and direct , and she found herself caught in it for a moment before she turned and left the room.

* * *

Devon drove home almost without being aware of it. Her mind was a mess of jumbled thoughts and emotions, and before she knew it, she was driving into Brandon. She took her rental car back and picked up her own, sitting in it for a moment, her head laying against the head rest. After one of the attendants came out of the office, looking at her strangely, she finally started her engine and headed home.

Her house seemed so quiet. Or maybe the noise inside her head just made it seem that way. She couldn't shut off the chaos-a mixture of memories from the night her father died, self-loathing over what she had almost done the night before, disbelief that she was even still alive. She had schooled herself to hate the Winchesters, and it was hard to shift gears from that mind set-and yet she felt a strange sense of gratitude that they had let her go, not retaliated or turned her over to the law. And then there was the mind-boggling fact that her father had been attacked by a... She could barely bring herself to even think it. A werewolf. If they hadn't killed him, he would have become one of those creatures, he would have been a monster.

She stood abruptly and walked to the kitchen, grabbing the whiskey and pouring herself a healthy shot. She downed it and poured another, taking it into the living room with her, still reeling at the insanity of it all. A werewolf. And if werewolves were real, what about... She shook her head defiantly. "Don't even go there," she thought to herself. "You've had enough crazy for one day." She reached up to touch her face gingerly, rather amazed at the fact that the blow hadn't broken her jaw. Apparently Dean Winchester had a lot of practice at knowing exactly how hard to hit someone to put out their lights. But he had really seemed sincere when he had apologized to her as she was leaving. She could see it in his eyes...

"Oh, no, you don't," she said out loud, standing up and raising her chin defiantly. "Dean Winchester and his eyes are out of your life as of today. And everything else about him, for that matter." With those words, she downed her second drink and headed for the shower.

* * *

Devon went back to work the next day, not wanting to face hours at home with nothing to do but think about the bizarre turn her life had taken. Luckily, she was able to hide the bruise on her face with makeup, which saved uncomfortable explanations-or lies. She did her job mechanically, out of habit, running the office and doing the books, answering phones and making appointments for her boss. But it all felt surreal to her, like she was playing the role of someone else's life rather than her own. She spent time with her mom, went out with friends, mowed her lawn, did all her formerly normal activities, but she felt empty inside, and out of place in her own world.

Even after several weeks of getting back to 'normal,' she was still feeling out of sync. As she sat on the couch one night, nursing a cold beer, she debated with herself the idea of calling a therapist. She sighed, raising the bottle to her lips, then almost spilling it down her front as a sharp knock rattled her front door. She wiped the beer from her chin as she rose and walked to the door, pulling it open. Her eyes widened and she took a step backward, her heart rate picking up speed. Dean Winchester stood on her porch holding open the storm door, and as she backed away, he held up his hands and shook his head. "I'm not here to hurt you, Devon."

She stopped where she was, looking back at him with distrust in her eyes. "Why are you here?" she asked, shoving a shaking hand into the pocket of her jeans.

"Can I come in?" He didn't move, waiting for her to answer.

She backed up another step, muttering, "I suppose," as she turned back to the table, grabbing her beer and taking a healthy swallow before turning to face him again. He took a couple of steps into the room and stopped.

"I know I'm the last person in the world you want to see-but I thought you might want your gun back." He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out her Glock, holding it out flat on the palm of his hand as he took a step towards her. She looked at it as if it would bite her, then turned back away, taking another drink.

"Who says I want it back?" she asked quietly, her back to him.

Dean took another step forward and laid the pistol on the coffee table. "You might need it someday, Devon. You never know." He walked back to the door, turning to look at her again, his hand on the doorknob. "Sorry to bother you." He stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind him, and she heard his boots thud down the stairs. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard his car start and move down the street, then dropped down to the couch and hugged her knees to her chest, staring at the gun on the table.

Two hours later, Devon was driving into Sioux Falls. She stopped at a red light and sat there, shaking her head in disbelief at herself. When the light changed, she continued on her way south, turning off at the salvage yard. She pulled into the drive and parked, not far from where she could see the black Impala, shining in the glow of the security light high on the pole above.

She got out of the car, then almost got back in to drive away. "This is crazy," she muttered under her breath, finally making her way to the front door. She knocked, then stood with her arms folded tight across her body, not even sure what she was going to say. When the door opened, she jumped a little, and looked up, way up, into Sam's hazel eyes.

"Devon?" He sounded shocked, and she made a weak attempt at a smile.

"Trust me, you're not any more surprised than I am that I'm here," she said. "Can I..."

Sam backed away from the door, opening it farther. "Come in, Devon. Are you all right?"

She nodded, walking in and looking around warily. "I don't know why I'm here."

Sam shook his head. "It's okay. You want a beer?"

She nodded, a hint of a real smile flitting across her face. "Yeah. Oh, yeah." Sam opened a beer and handed it to her, and she took it gratefully. "I don't even know what time it is, I'm sorry," she said, taking a swallow of the cold brew. "I'm not thinking too straight these days."

Sam smiled. "It's okay."

"Devon?" She turned her head as Dean said her name, and met his eyes. He stood there, in his stocking feet, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

She stared back at him, a hesitant smile curving her lips momentarily. "Hey." Dean recovered quickly from his surprise, padding across the room to the fridge and grabbing a beer for himself.

"What's going on?" he asked, his candid gaze making her feel a little self-conscious. She sighed, taking another drink before attempting to answer.

"I don't know. I mean, I... There's no one I can talk to about...everything," she said softly, blinking as tears stung her eyelids. Then she set the beer on the table, turning and taking a step towards the door. "This is crazy, I should leave." She felt a hand on her shoulder and stopped, hearing Dean's voice behind her.

"Just come in, finish your beer, and tell us what's on your mind."

She turned, and he handed her back the bottle she had left on the table. "You guys look like you were getting ready for bed," she protested quietly, glancing at Dean's socks and then over at Sam's bare feet, and Dean made a dismissive face, shaking his head.

"Nah. Way too early for us. Come on." He held out a hand towards the doorway to the next room, and she slowly nodded and walked that direction. She took a seat on the well-worn sofa, and Dean sat on the other side, while Sam grabbed a chair, putting his feet up on a battered old footstool. Dean propped his up on the coffee table and settled back, while Devon sat perched at the edge of the seat.

"So what's going on, Devon?" Sam asked, and she looked up at him momentarily, fiddling absently with the label on her bottle.

"I'm not really sure. And I don't know why I came. It's so weird, but I can't talk to anyone about what happened, and at least you guys know the truth. I've spent the last few weeks trying to forget about it, to get back to my regular life, but I feel like I don't fit there any more, you know?" She sat back on the couch, taking a gulp of her beer as Sam nodded. She glanced over at Dean, who was watching her, listening quietly. "I know there's more out there, other things I don't know about," she said, looking into Dean's green eyes and feeling for a second that all the air had been sucked out of the room. "I guess I want to know more." A small frown formed a ridge between his eyebrows as she continued, still gazing at him directly. "I feel like... I feel like I'm, I don't know, supposed to do something about those things. I feel like I know they exist and I can't just go on living my life, ignoring the evil that's out there. Is that nuts?"

She watched as Dean sighed, his lips pressed tightly together, glancing at his brother before meeting her eyes again and speaking. "Your dad was a hunter. I suppose it's in your blood. But it's a rough road to go down, Devon. It's bloody, and dangerous, and ugly, and not many people manage to get out of the life once they start. Everybody's got some reason, something that happened that pushed them into hunting, and your dad's death is that kind of thing. But he didn't want that for you, you know. That's why he never told you the truth about what he did. He wanted you to have a normal life."

Devon drained her beer, setting the empty bottle on the table. "My normal life ended the night my father died."


	7. Chapter 7

It was almost three o'clock in the morning when Sam convinced Devon to take the couch for the rest of the night and get some sleep. They had talked for almost four hours, letting her talk when she felt the need and trying to answer her questions. Dean tried to discourage her, to send her back home; but he and Sam could both tell that she was never going to let it go. She was convinced that she now had a responsibility to help save people from the evil in the world, evil that they didn't even know existed. Evil that she hadn't known existed until a few weeks ago.

She curled up on the couch, mumbling her thanks, and letting her eyes drift shut. Sam followed Dean into the kitchen as he walked to the door, locking up for the night, and turned to face his brother. "Sam, I don't like this. She should be working a normal job, finding some nice normal banker to marry and have 2.5 normal kids with."

Sam took a deep breath and blew it out quietly. "I know, Dean. But she's going to get into hunting, with our help or without it. She's convinced that it's her calling now. You heard her. She's scared, but she's determined."

"Yeah." Dean smirked a little as he turned off the porch light. "She's got Scott's stubborn streak, that's for sure."

Sam smiled in answer. "So, what do we do? Take her along? Show her the ropes?"

Dean let out a quiet little snort. "I don't know, Sammy. Not sure I'm ready to be freakin' Yoda. But I guess we'll just take it one step at a time." He walked noiselessly into the next room, looking down at Devon's already sleeping form. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and covered her, then grabbed the bedroll from the shelf behind the desk and stretched out on the floor, since it had been his night to take the couch. "'Night, Sam," he whispered, and Sam nodded in answer, heading for the spare bed in the room at the top of the stairs.

* * *

Dean rolled over in the sleeping bag, rubbing one eye and peering around the darkened room carefully. Bobby's house was pretty well protected, but he had heard something. Bobby was out of town, but maybe he had gotten home early. He laid there silently, waiting for another noise, and soon it came. It was Devon, whimpering softly, mumbling in her sleep. Dean pulled his legs free of the bedding, making his way over to the couch, perching on the edge of the coffee table. He laid a hand gently on her shoulder and whispered, "Devon, are you okay?" She let out another small sound, and he spoke again. "Devon? Wake up. You're dreaming."

She shot upright on the couch, her breathing harsh, and stared blindly at him for a moment, her eyes wide with terror and anguish. Then she brought her hands to her face and began to cry softly, and Dean waited a split second before putting his arm around her, not sure what her reaction would be. She surprised him by leaning over onto his shoulder, accepting his comfort without question, and he whispered soothing words as she calmed down, bit by bit. After a few minutes, she raised her head, looking up into his eyes in the dim light; then she pulled away slowly, sitting back up straight, looking down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap.

"Are you all right?" he asked, watching her wipe a stray tear with one hand.

She nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, I'll be okay." She looked into his eyes. "Thank you. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for." He gave her a faint smile as she laid back down, pulling the blanket back over herself. He looked down at her for a moment, then went back to his makeshift bed. Now he laid awake, sure that Devon's dream was about that night at the cabin, the night he shot his friend.

He tossed and turned, wrestling with his guilt, until dawn began to tinge the eastern sky. Then he rose quietly and left the house, going into the shop and walking over to the car Bobby had been working on. If he did something physical, it kept him from thinking so much, so he raised the hood and went to work, focusing on finding the problem with the engine and pushing the darkness he felt to the back of his mind.

* * *

Devon sat up, disoriented at first, then slowly remembering where she was and what she was doing there. She rubbed at her neck for a moment, stiff from sleeping at an odd angle on the couch, and stood, stretching. The sun was barely up, and she craved a cup of coffee, but she didn't smell any brewing. She could make some when she got home.

She grabbed her purse, which was on the floor beside her, and headed outside, taking a deep breath of the morning air, which had just a hint of chill to it. She heard a noise in the shop building a short distance to her left, and walked towards it. She had heard Dean leave the house earlier, and wanted to tell him she was leaving.

She entered the building, spying him bent over under the hood of a rather beat-up older car. She bumped something with her foot, and he spoke without looking up. "Hand me that socket wrench out of the toolbox, would you?" Devon came closer and bent to pick up the requested tool, laying it into his waiting hand. "Thanks," he muttered, absorbed in whatever task he was performing.

"You're welcome," she answered, and his head came up so fast he struck it on the hood. "Oh, sorry!"

He turned, rubbing his head a little. "Thought you were Sam." He was wiping his grease-smeared hands on a shop rag, and she couldn't help but smile a little at the smudge over his nose.

"Here," she said, reaching for the rag. He handed it to her, puzzled, and she reached up to gently clean the grease from his face. She gave the cloth back to him, stepping back as a small smirk curved his lips.

"Thanks." He looked at her steadily for a moment. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah. I just need to go home, take a shower, get some coffee."

"There's coffee over there," Dean said, gesturing towards the workbench not far away with a half-full pot sitting on it. "There's a cup on the shelf, can't vouch for how clean it is..."

"At this point, I'd probably drink out of a used oil can," she answered, heading that direction. The brew was strong and hot, and the cup was old and stained, but she sighed with pleasure as she took a sip. "Best coffee I've ever tasted," she murmured, and looked up as a scornful noise escaped Dean's lips.

"Doubt that, but I'm glad you like it."

She took another sip, then nodded towards the cup. "Do you mind if I take this with me? I'll bring it back."

Dean leaned against the car, and Devon smiled hesitantly at his amused expression. "Bobby's good china-I don't know." He folded his arms across his chest, and Devon felt her breath hitch a little at the play of toned muscle in his biceps and forearms. "Yeah, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

She nodded her thanks and headed for the door, turning as she reached the large opening. "Thanks for-last night."

Dean shook his head. "You don't have to thank me for anything, Devon." There it was, that tortured, guilty look in his eyes.

Devon took a deep breath and spoke again softly, but she kept her eyes down as she spoke. "Dean, I know now-you did what you had to do."

She looked back up at him, but his eyes were focused on the floor in front of him. He was chewing absently on his lower lip, and when he looked back up at her, she could almost physically feel the impact of his gaze. "I've done a lot of things I've 'had to do' over the years. It doesn't make it any easier, Devon. That's what I was trying to tell you last night. You should stay as far away from this life as you can get. It'll wreck you."

"And I told you, I don't think I can do that. And I'm already wrecked. So-I'll see you." She turned away again and headed to her car, and Dean watched silently as she climbed behind the wheel and left. Then he ran a hand through his tousled hair, shook his head, and turned back to the task at hand.

* * *

It was several weeks before Devon spoke to the Winchesters again. Sam had promised her that he would contact her if there was a job close by that he felt she'd be able to handle, or at least do a 'ride along.' She was beginning to think he'd blown her off, and she was sure his brother had done just that. But as she left work one Friday night, the phone rang, and she heard Sam's voice on the other end.

"Devon? Got any plans tonight?"

"I have a feeling I do now. I thought maybe you'd forgotten about me. What's up, Sam?"

"We think we've got a vengeful spirit problem, about 50 miles from here. Interested?"

She was terrified, but excited at the same time, allowing herself a small smile. "Does Dean know I'm coming?"

"Yeah. I told him."

"And?"

"And, I told him you were coming. I didn't ask. He'll get over it."

"I'll be there in half an hour."

"Pack a bag. We probably won't be done in one night." Sam ended the call, and Devon blew out a nervous breath. This...this was what she needed, to feel like she was making a difference, that she was fighting back. She was packed and ready in a few minutes, and she smiled grimly as she placed her gun and ammo into her bag, then slung it over her shoulder and left for Sioux Falls.

* * *

Devon sat in the back seat of the Impala, watching out the window and occasionally glancing at the brothers who sat, mostly silent, in the front. Once in a while, she would look up to see Dean glancing back at her in the rear view mirror. He did not look happy.

Finally, after almost 20 minutes of silence, she spoke. "Dean, I know you're not happy about this. But I'm here, so can you just make the best of it?"

He shook his head, his mouth twisted sarcastically. "There is no best, Devon. You shouldn't be here. You're going to get yourself killed-or one of us."

Devon felt her temper flair. "Look, I promised Sam I'd just hang back, let you two do the work, and just observe. You can accept it, or you can pout the rest of the way there. Whatever the hell makes you happy."

"What would make me happy is taking you home and dropping you at your front door." The fire in Devon's hazel eyes rivaled that in his green ones as she stared back at him via the mirror.

"Well, we don't always get what makes us happy, do we?" She turned her head deliberately, staring at the passing scenery unseeing, fuming inside. He wasn't even giving her a chance, and she was more determined than ever to prove him wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean pulled into the lot at the Super 8 motel, and they walked into the lobby together. The clerk stood waiting behind the counter, and Dean pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "Two adjoining rooms, at least one with two queens."

"I can get my own room, Dean," Devon interrupted, and Dean glanced back at her, shrugging.

"Suit yourself." He paid for their room and stepped back to let Devon take care of her bill, ignoring the glare she sent his way as she passed by him.

Devon carried her bag into the room, tossing it onto one of the beds. She turned on a light, then proceeded to the door adjoining the room next door, unlocking and opening it just as Dean did the same on their side. "Come on in, we'll fill you in," he said rather curtly, and she made a face at him behind his back as he turned and she followed him into the room. Sam smiled to himself as he saw her, and she colored a little as she saw he had noticed.

"Have you talked to Sheila?" Sam asked his brother, pulling out a chair and sitting, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

"No, not yet. Bobby said we should wait until tomorrow. We may need to talk to her daughter. She's the one this thing is focused on," Dean answered. He grabbed a seat on one of the beds as Devon sat down on the other. "Sounds like there was a suicide in the house, which they didn't tell Sheila and Mike when they bought the place, didn't want to spook them, I guess. A young mother found her baby dead in its crib, and slit her wrists right there in the nursery. That's the daughter's room now, according to what Sheila told Bobby."

"This ghost is trying to replace her baby with their daughter?" Devon asked quietly. "What do you do about something like that?"

Dean looked at her as he answered with a question. "Sure you want to know?"

Devon sighed impatiently. "Why else would I be here, Dean? What is your problem?"

He stared back at her unflinchingly. "My problem? You are my problem. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"No idea? Really?! I just lost my Dad to a werewolf!"

"That's one of a million possible messed-up scenarios that we deal with every day, Devon. You know, barely, about one type of monster, and what it's capable of. You have no experience with any of this, and you just want to jump in and go on a hunt."

"And how am I supposed to learn how to handle other things if I don't go along, observe, learn about the other monsters that are out there?"

"You're not. You're supposed to accept that your father died fighting to keep you safe, and honor that by having the life he wanted for you!"

Dean's voice was getting louder, and Sam sat upright in his chair, watching the exchange, ready to intervene if necessary.

"You have no idea what my father wanted for me!" Devon shouted back, standing. "Just because you hung out with him on a few monster hunts doesn't make you an expert."

"I spent more time with him than you did," he answered sharply, and Devon froze, her eyes firing daggers at Dean. Her voice was icy calm when she spoke.

"Screw you, Dean Winchester." She turned and stalked towards the connecting door.

"You wish, sweetheart!" he shouted after her, right before the door to her room slammed shut, shaking the wall and rattling the light fixture between the beds.

Sam looked at his brother, shaking his head. "Nice, Dean. Really nice."

Dean looked back at him, the muscles in his jaw clenched. "Shut up, Sam." He stood up and grabbed his jacket. "I'm going on a beer run." And he left Sam sitting there, listening to the Impala's engine roaring to life and gravel peppering the building as he spun the tires leaving the parking lot.

He sighed to himself and got up, going to Devon's door and knocking quietly. "Devon? Can I talk to you?"

It was a moment before he heard the deadbolt click, and the door opened. Devon stood aside to let him enter, then closed the door much more quietly than the first time.

"Your brother's an asshole," she said quietly, going back to the table where a bottle of Irish whiskey sat next to one of the plastic motel cups holding a generous splash of the amber liquid. "Want one?" she asked, gesturing to the bottle.

"Sure." Sam joined her at the table, and Devon went to the vanity, grabbing another glass. She handed it to him, letting him pour his own, and took a seat across from him.

Sam took a sip, looking across the table at her. "Dean can be a jerk," he said, "but he's just worried about you getting stuck in this life. He's right-once you start down this road, it's almost impossible to get out. You have a good life now, Devon-are you sure you want to do this?"

"My life is..." Devon's voice trailed off. "It's empty, Sam. I go to work, I pay my bills, I go through the motions, but it's empty. Do you know what I mean?" She looked up at him, a lost look in her eyes. Sam nodded, and she continued. "I know this isn't the smart thing to do. I know it's not the safe thing to do. But I feel a sense of purpose, like I'm going to be doing something with my life-not just living, but being really alive, you know?"

"Being alive is the hard part of this job, Devon."

"I know. But if I die, at least I'll die doing something, not just sitting on the sidelines." She picked up her glass and took a swallow, then looked up into Sam's eyes. "I can't just sit on the sidelines any more, Sam. Not after what happened to my Dad." Sam saw the sparkle of tears in her eyes before she looked down at the table.

* * *

Sam crawled into bed later that night, debating whether he should even try to talk to Dean about Devon. His brother was sprawled on the bed next to him, one arm flung over his eyes, which many times was an unconscious signal that he was not in a talking mood. He doubted that Dean even realized that, but after spending almost every waking moment with him for his whole life, minus the time he was at Stanford, Sam had learned to read him very well.

He had left Devon earlier with an understanding look and the admonition to try to get some sleep. She had nodded absently as she walked him to the door, letting him through and looking up at him with a quiet, "Thanks, Sam," before she closed the door. Dean had fired him a look as he reentered their room and closed their connecting door.

"Hooking up already, Sammy?" he had said sarcastically, and Sam's temper had flared.

"Devon's right-you are an asshole," he had shot back, and headed for the shower. By the time he had finished, Dean had already gone to bed.

Sam laid there, staring at the ceiling, and a frustrated sigh escaped his lips. "Something on your mind, little brother?" Dean asked quietly, but there was a challenge in his voice, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Why are you being such a jerk to her?"

"I told her why. Her dad died fighting to protect her, and people like her. And she wants to throw her life away."

"It's her life, Dean. And she feels pretty strongly about it. She said it gives her a sense of purpose, that her life was empty before. And she doesn't feel like she can just go on with her life and ignore what's going on out there. She feels like she owes it to her dad to continue the fight."

Dean turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand and staring across the gap between the beds. "Wow, you guys had quite the caring and sharing time. Other than agreeing that I'm an asshole, what else did you two crazy kids do?"

"Eat me, Dean." Sam sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "She needs to talk to someone about all this stuff, and you just keep attacking her. Why can't you give her a chance?"

"I'm trying to give her a chance." Dean sat up and faced his brother, his bare feet hitting the floor as he rose and walked to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a long drink. Then he turned to Sam again, his lips pressed into a tight line. "Sam-what if we take her along, and something happens. Do you think I want to be responsible for Scott's death and his daughter's, too?"

Sam shook his head. "You weren't responsible for Scott's death, Dean. You just stopped him from life as a murdering, violent creature with no control over itself. Devon has the right to choose her life, and if this is what she wants-what she needs-to do, then at least we can give her the tools and the knowledge to do it the best and safest way."

Dean stared down at the floor, absently worrying at the inside of his lip with his teeth. He looked up at Sam, making a rather wry face, setting the water bottle on the table and coming back to his bed. He sat back down and looked up at Sam. "I know, Sam. You're right." He sighed a little, then laid back on his bed. "I'll talk to her in the morning, apologize, okay?"

"Good." Sam laid back down, too, then spoke softly again. "And, by the way, there's nothing going on between us, so knock it off. Maybe you're interested, that's why your mind goes there right away."

Dean made a quietly scornful noise. "Whatever, Sammy."

"Whatever, Dean."

* * *

The next morning, Sam was up first and left to pick up breakfast for the three of them. Dean was still half asleep when he heard a soft knock on the connecting door to Devon's room. He rolled out of bed and went to open it, absently rubbing the back of his neck.

"Morning," Devon said, looking at him cautiously. "Sorry-didn't mean to wake you."

"No problem, I was awake. Just hadn't gotten the ambition to get out of bed yet." Dean stood back and let Devon enter the room. "Sam just went after some breakfast and coffee, he'll be right back."

She nodded, a sorry excuse for a smile barely touching the corners of her mouth. "Coffee sounds good."

Dean sat back on his bed, leaning against the headboard, his long legs stretched out across the mattress. Devon looked at him a little strangely, and he stared back. "What?"

"Do you always sleep in your clothes?" she asked, then blushed a little. "Not that it's any of my business, sorry."

"Sometimes, I guess-habit. Sometimes you need to be prepared for action, and sometimes you know there's gonna be a little down time. Last night I was just tired." He looked at her, and she began to feel a little uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "Devon-are you sure this is what you want?"

She took a deep breath before answering. "Yes. I'm sure. I know you think I'm crazy," she said, noting the raise of Dean's eyebrows and the nod he gave, "but this is what I feel like I need to do. So are you going to help me, or should I find someone else?"

"I'll help you-we'll help you. And I'm sorry for giving you such a hard time. But you'd better understand-when Sam or I tell you to do something, you need to do it, without question. It could mean the difference between life or death for one of us, or for someone else. Until you learn a whole lot more about the supernatural things we deal with, you're gonna be by my side, or by Sam's side, and not off on your own. And the second you don't listen to us, you're gone. You're back at the motel room, out of harm's way." Dean lowered his chin and looked at her from under his eyebrows, and Devon easily read the seriousness in his tone and demeanor.

"I understand." Before she could say any more, Sam entered the room, carrying a drink holder wafting the aroma of heavenly caffeine, and two bags holding styrofoam containers of hot breakfast items.

"Are you two playing nice?" he asked, raising a brow at Devon, and she answered him with a wry smile.

"We're fine. That's smells wonderful, Sam."

"Well, dig in. We've got work to do."

As they ate breakfast together, Sam and Dean filled Devon in on more details about the job. Mike and Sheila were friends of Bobby Singer's, and Sam and Dean had known them for several years through him, so there would be no subterfuge involved in this job, at least. Just straightforward investigating and research. "And then what?" asked Devon, washing down her last bite with her last swallow of coffee.

"And then-we find her remains. Dig up the grave, and salt and burn her corpse." Devon was staring at Dean, her eyes wide. "That releases the spirit, Devon. Allows it to be at peace, to move on."

She swallowed hard, nodding hesitantly. "Okay."

"The thing is," Sam said quietly, "sometimes they don't want to go peacefully. That's when things can get crazy."

"Just remember what I said, Devon. Just do what we say, without hesitation, and we'll all get through this in one piece." Dean was looking at her steadily, and she took a shaky breath.

She nodded again. "All right."

Dean glanced at Sam, and then nodded at Devon. "Okay. Let's go talk to Sheila."


	9. Chapter 9

They pulled up in front of a beautiful two-story home, complete with flower beds and a large tree with a tire swing in the front yard. The threesome made their way up the sidewalk and Dean rapped on the door. It swung open, and a plump woman with a bright smile greeted them. "Dean, Sam, come in! And who's this? I'm Sheila," she said holding out a hand to Devon.

"Devon," she answered, smiling at the woman's contagious cheerfulness. They got inside the door, and Dean was enveloped in a hug, smiling sheepishly over her shoulder at Sam and Devon. Sam was next, and then she led them into a large living room area, gesturing towards the couch.

"Sit, please, I'll get some coffee."

"Can I help?" offered Devon, but Sheila shook her head.

"No, honey, have a seat, I'll be right back."

Devon took a seat on a nearby chair while the guys planted themselves on the couch. Devon looked up to see a pair of bright blue eyes peering at her from around the corner, and a little girl with beautiful blond curls sidled shyly into the room. "Hi, sweetie," Devon said, smiling. The girl stood in the doorway, hugging a doll to her chest. "I'm Devon. What's your name?"

The little girl looked back at her silently for a moment, then very softly answered, "Becca."

"Nice to meet you, Becca." Devon smiled again, and nodded towards the girl's doll. "I love your doll. She's beautiful."

"She's a princess."

Devon rose from her chair and went to one knee in front of Becca. "Is she? What's her name?"

"'Punzel."

"Rapunzel? She has such pretty long hair. May I hold her?"

"You can give her a hug." Becca held the doll out to Devon, who took it and hugged it close, then handed it back to the child.

"Thank you for sharing her with me, Becca."

Becca looked up at Devon, her blue eyes sparkling. "You're welcome. I want to sit on your lap."

Devon glanced over at Sam and Dean, her brows raised in surprise. Both men were grinning as she took the little girl by the hand and pulled her onto her lap. "Becca, this is Sam and Dean. They're my friends. They're your mommy's friends, too."

Becca looked at them soberly. "Boys can't hug my doll," she said bluntly, and Devon laughed.

"Sorry, guys." Becca snuggled back against Devon, playing with her doll's hair, and Sheila came back into the room bearing a tray filled with coffee mugs.

"Well, it didn't take you long to make a new friend, did it, Becca?" She smiled at her daughter as she handed out the coffee, then took a seat in a chair next to Devon.

"This is Devon, Mommy. She hugged 'Punzel."

"That is so awesome, Becca. Now, you go play for a while, the grownups need to talk a little. You can see Devon again later, okay?" The child nodded and slid off Devon's lap, running from the room. Sheila looked at Devon, handing her a mug of steaming coffee. "Now that's impressive, Devon. That child doesn't cuddle up to just everyone."

"She's very sweet," Devon responded, sipping at her coffee.

"Tell us about what's been happening, Sheila," Dean said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his coffee in his hands. "You said this spirit seems focused on your daughter?"

Sheila's ever-present smile faded. "Becca kept saying that a lady was in her room. A lady with a long dress, and she wanted Becca to come with her." She looked over at Devon. "But two nights ago, Becca started crying. I got up to check on her, and I couldn't open the door." There were tears in the woman's eyes now, and Devon reached out, covering Sheila's hand with her own. "Becca kept crying for me, and I was pounding on the door, and then finally it came open. Becca said that the lady tried to grab her and she was scared."

"Sheila-we're going to dig up some history on this house, see if we can find some information to help us out. We'll be in touch later, but I'd keep Becca out of that room for now." Dean waited until Sheila nodded, her eyes fearful.

"We haven't been in the room since that night. Can you-can you take care of this?"

Dean stood and smiled at the woman. "We'll take care of it, Sheila. Don't worry." She nodded again, the anxiety still on her face as she walked them to the door.

They went back to the motel long enough for Sam and Dean to dress in suits, preparing to act as university historians researching local lore. They dropped Devon off at the local library to research there while they planned to check into the courthouse records and speak to law enforcement. Devon went to the librarian first, an older woman with a pair of glasses on a chain around her neck and a gentle smile. "May I help you?" she asked in a hushed voice, even though they were the only two people in the building.

"Yes," Devon answered, "I'm looking for some information on this house; history of the building, of any tragedies that might have occurred there, that kind of thing." She handed the address, scribbled on a scrap of paper, to the woman, who smiled and nodded.

"Oh, yes, Melinda Bennett. That poor girl." The librarian smiled up at Devon. "There's not much for documentation here, only old newspaper stories. That was about 1952, if I remember correctly. The newspapers are archived so you can pull up the files on the computer." She nodded towards a table holding several desktop computer monitors, and Devon smiled her thanks and took a seat there.

She scrolled through file after file of old newspapers, finally coming across the first short article in October of 1952. "Woman and Infant Found Dead" was the headline, but no pictures. She continued searching until the newspaper from the last week of October when the story took up almost half of the front page, with a picture of a pretty young woman with long dark hair, and next to it a photo of a baby girl, about 6 months old. That headline read, "Woman Kills Infant, Commits Suicide." Devon closed her eyes momentarily, shaking her head. No wonder she couldn't let go. She had killed her own child.

Devon read through the story, then printed off a copy of the article and the pictures. She thanked the librarian, heading out the door. She had told Dean she'd walk back to the motel if she finished before them, since it was only a few blocks away, and it was a pleasant day outside. Not that she noticed at all, her mind was on the tragic events that had destroyed two lives. The newspaper had stated that Melinda Bennett had smothered the baby, whether it had been intentional, they assumed in an attempt to quiet its crying. Then, realizing what she'd done, she took her own life.

Devon entered her motel room, laying the copy of the news story on the table and grabbing a bottle of water from the small fridge. She had just reached for the remote to turn on the television when she heard noises from next door and a knock sounded on the connecting door. She grabbed her water and the paper, and opened the door. Dean was standing there, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt and pulling off his tie. "Hey, did you find anything?" he asked as she walked into their room.

"Just this." She handed the paper over to him. "Melinda Bennett. Smothered her own baby, they think to quiet its crying, then killed herself when she realized what she'd done."

Dean looked up at Sam, nodding slowly. "That makes sense. According to the police records, there was a serious case of abuse going on there. She was terrified of her husband. She was probably trying to quiet the baby's crying so it wouldn't wake him up."

"Oh my God. People are..."

"Crazy? Yeah, that's what I always say."

Devon nodded. "Do you think she'll try to hurt Becca?"

Dean stared into her eyes for a moment before answering. "You have to understand, this is not Melinda Bennett any more. This is a spirit, one that's been stranded here for years. She probably just kind of hung out in that nursery, probably never bothering anyone, until Becca showed up. All of a sudden there's a child in that nursery again, and my guess is that she's reliving what happened to her again. So, yeah-I think there's a possibility that Becca is in danger."

"We can't let her hurt that little girl." Devon felt anger rise up in her at the thought of what the woman had experienced. "I just wish there was some way to get justice for her, to punish her husband." She looked at Dean, her emotion showing on her face. "I can't imagine how terrified of him she must have been, to smother her daughter just to keep her from waking her father. He should have had to pay for that." Dean stared into her eyes for a moment, then nodded once in agreement.

"We can give her peace, let her move on. That's how we help her, Devon." She nodded silently, glancing up at Sam, who gave her a sympathetic smile, which she answered rather weakly.

"As soon as we get out of these monkey suits, we're heading to the cemetery to find her grave," Sam said, removing his suit jacket. Dean was unbuttoning his shirt, and Devon turned towards her room, smiling and a little flustered.

"Um, yell when you guys are ready-I think I'll go next door while you two finish stripping." She heard Dean's suggestive little chuckle behind her as she closed the door, still smiling and shaking her head.

* * *

By the time they found Melinda Bennett's grave, it was late afternoon. They drove to the house to fill Mike and Sheila in on what they had found, and Sheila insisted on feeding them supper. "Come on, guys. I made a pot roast, and I baked two pies this afternoon." Her husband was just as insistent, so they finally agreed, not that it took much more arm-twisting with Dean.

After supper, Devon took Becca to her play room so Sam and Dean could fill her parents in on their discoveries. The sun was going down, and Devon turned on the light in Becca's play room, listening to her joyful description and demonstration of every toy she owned. She stopped for one moment, tilting her little blond head with a curious look on her face. "My princess." She ran out of the room, and Devon stood quickly to follow.

"Becca? Where did you go?" she called playfully, looking into her parents' room and then the bathroom as she walked down the hallway. She took one more step and felt as if she'd walked into a freezer, and her eyes grew wide as she realized the nursery door stood open and Becca was inside. "Becca? Come here, sweetie," she said, her voice shaking a little.

"I found my princess," the little girl said happily. "The lady gave her to me."

Fear sent icy fingers along her spine as she hurried into the room. "Sam! Dean!" she shouted, and turned to see Becca standing near the bed, a woman in a long white nightgown standing directly behind her. "Becca, come here, please," she said, keeping her voice calm, not wanting to scare the child. But before Becca could move, the ghostly figure put an arm around her little body, pinning her arms to her sides, and covered her mouth and nose with her other hand.

"Have to be quiet," the spirit whispered harshly. "Shhhh. Have to be quiet, my darling girl."

Becca had begun to struggle now, and Devon shook, terrified, as she took a step closer. But a loud hiss came from the woman's mouth and Devon stopped in her tracks. Dean arrived at the door first, but when he attempted to enter, the ghostly figure appeared to panic even further, and he stopped where he was. Devon spoke softly, trying to control the trembling in her voice. "Melinda. I know you're scared, Melinda. I know what your husband did to you." The spirits eyes grew wider, looking terrified now, and Devon tried desperately to calm her.

"It's okay, Melinda. He's gone."

"Have to save my baby girl," the woman whispered, "Have to keep her quiet."

"No, Melinda. You don't have to do that any more. Please let this little girl go."

The room grew colder still, and Melinda's spirit began to keen in a high-pitched sound that sent Devon's hands to her ears. "He's coming," she whispered.

"Melinda, please..." Devon started, but a cruel, angry male voice echoed in the room.

"Bitch! I told you to keep that brat quiet!" Melinda let go of Becca, and Devon grabbed her quickly, taking her to Dean, who turned to hand her to her father.

"Come on, Devon," he said, turning towards her, but the male spirit appeared then, and with a malevolent glare sent Devon flying against the far wall. She struck it hard, then slid down to the floor, still conscious but dazed. Then he turned towards Dean, but he now had a sawed-off shotgun in his hands courtesy of his brother, and the spirit vanished in the blast of rock salt. The female spirit disappeared, still wailing, the sound slowly fading as she fled.

Dean rushed into the room where Devon still slumped against the wall. "Devon? Are you all right?" He helped her up as she winced in pain, leaning a little heavily on his arm to keep herself steady.

"I need a drink," she said, a low moan escaping her lips as she reached her hand to the back of her head.

"No way," Dean said authoritatively. "You might have a concussion. No drink for you tonight. Sorry." He helped Devon down the stairs and they all gathered in the living room. After getting Devon settled in the chair, he turned to look at Sheila and Mike. "You guys need to go visit Grandma or something. This thing is escalating, and I think you should get out of harm's way."

Mike was nodding, and turned to go back upstairs, still holding his crying daughter, Sheila right behind him.

Dean turned to look at Sam, his grave expression mirrored on his brother's face. "Looks like we've got some more research to do."


	10. Chapter 10

After seeing the family off, the three of them climbed into the Impala. "Tomorrow we go back and look for info on the husband. But we need to hit the cemetery tonight, take care of Melinda Bennett," Dean said, his voice all business as he pulled away from the curb. "At least we can get rid of one spirit."

"No!" Devon argued, watching as Dean's eyes met hers in the rear view mirror. "We're not going to burn her remains. She's not the problem here."

Dean pulled the car over with a screech of brakes. "Not the problem? You do have a concussion! She was just trying to smother that little girl back there!"

"She was trying to keep her quiet because she was afraid. We need to find her husband. If we take care of him..."

"If we take care of him we still have her spirit to deal with! We already know where her body is buried, at least we won't have to fight both spirits," he argued.

"No, Dean," she started again, but he shook his head, almost shouting as he pulled the car onto the road again.

"Look! I told you, you do what we say, when we say, remember? If you don't like it, you can stay at the motel. Sam and I can take care of business at the cemetery."

Devon opened her mouth to speak, but swallowed her words, fuming. She sat in angry silence until they pulled up in front of the motel, then launched herself from the back seat almost before the car had come to a stop. Sam called out her name, but she pulled out her card key and opened her door, slamming it behind her. "Great, Dean. Was that really necessary?" he asked as he and his furious older brother exited the car.

"I warned her, Sammy. I told her we run the show and she's here to watch and learn." They entered the room, Dean first, and Sam turned to close the door. Then he stepped to the side, surprise on his face, as Devon came rushing at Dean, shoving him with all her might with both hands on his chest. Off balance, he hit the door and stood there, staring in surprise at her enraged face.

"Now can I finish a sentence, you arrogant ass? In my opinion-which counts zero with you, I know-Melinda would probably let go of her hold on this world if her husband's spirit was gone. She's still in that cycle of fear, and if he was removed, I really think she'd move on." She stared up at Dean, fire in her eyes, for a moment. Then she slowly lowered her hands from his chest and took a step backward. "So you can take that for what it's worth, but I think you're wrong if you go ahead and burn her remains." Her lips curved in a smirk as she folded her arms across her chest. "Sir."

Sam smothered a laugh, not completely successfully, and Dean glared at him before stepping away from the door. He folded his arms like Devon, and stared down at the woman a head shorter than him who had just put him against the wall. "What makes you so sure of that?" he asked, and for a moment she was taken aback at the sincerity of his question. His sarcastic tone was gone, and he was looking at her, waiting for an answer.

"I'm not sure, just a feeling. When I was in that room with her-I didn't feel any anger, or malice. Just fear. She thought she was protecting Becca, not hurting her. Which is probably what happened to her baby."

Devon watched as the brothers glanced at each other, then Dean's eyes rested on her once again. "You feel pretty strongly about this," he said, stating the fact, not asking.

She relaxed her stance a little, unfolding her arms and taking a step back, looking up at him. "Yes, I do. I think if we can get rid of her husband's spirit, she will move on voluntarily." Dean looked into her eyes silently for what seemed like forever; then, finally, he turned away and walked to the dresser where the bottle of whiskey sat.

"Okay." He poured himself a drink and turned back towards her again. "We'll do it your way. This time."  
Devon took a relieved breath. "Thank you." She turned quietly, heading back to her room. "Good night." She heard Sam answer behind her as she closed the door to her room.

Sam turned to look at his older brother, struggling to control the urge to smile. "So," he started, but Dean cut him off.  
"Shut up, Sammy."

* * *

Devon walked to the library the next morning, leaving Sam and Dean to change back into their suits for another trip to the courthouse and sheriff's office. The librarian smiled pleasantly at her as she walked in, and Devon smiled in answer. "More research on Melinda Bennett?" she asked, and Devon nodded.

"Well, actually-I'm doing research now on her husband. Were you living here when the tragedy happened, Mrs. Kline?" she asked, reading the woman's name from the nameplate on her desk.

The grey-haired woman took her glasses off and let them dangle from the chain around her neck. "I was. It was horrible. Melinda was such a sweet, shy girl, and the baby-I think her name was Sophie-was adorable."

"Did you know Mr. Bennett?"

The older woman's smile faded. "Robert Bennett was a tyrant. He was a loud, obnoxious bully. That's what I remember."

"What happened to him after Melinda and the baby died?"

She thought for a moment. "You know, I don't really know. He just disappeared, I think everyone figured he just couldn't live in that house after what had happened. I don't think anyone every heard from him again. But he had nothing to hold him here, no family, definitely no friends. He just left and never came back."

Devon smiled at her again. "Thank you, Mrs. Kline. You've been very helpful."

She walked down the sidewalk, brow furrowed in thought. They knew he was dead-his spirit had appeared at the house. But if he died there that night, where was the body? He wasn't mentioned at all in the news stories. Could Melinda have been so distraught over the baby's death that she managed to kill him and hide the body before committing suicide?

She was so lost in thought that she almost walked right by the motel. She turned back and got herself a cold Coke from the machine near the office, then walked to her room to wait for the Winchesters to return.

It was an hour or so before Sam and Dean came back to the motel. They had gotten no further than Devon had in finding more information on Robert Bennett. Devon shared what the librarian had told her about the man, and then hesitantly told them of her thoughts about his possible murder. "Could his body still be there somewhere?" she asked, glancing between the two as she waited for an answer.

"Maybe we need to go have a look around the property." Dean stood up, looking at Devon. "Ready to go search for a body?" he asked, a crooked smile on his face.

"Thought you'd never ask," she answered, and they all headed back once again to the Impala.

They arrived at Mike and Sheila's home and parked, walking around the exterior of the house, looking for anything odd. They stood finally in the back yard on the patio, Devon with her hands on her hips and a frustrated look on her face. "She couldn't have buried him. There's no way she would have had the strength to dig a grave." Dean leaned on the fence surrounding the patio, his arms folded. "Maybe he's in the house, but where?"

"Well, we could call Mike, see if there was anything odd here when they bought the place." Sam and Devon nodded in agreement, and Dean dialed Mike's number. After explaining what they were looking for, Dean was quiet as he listened. "Where the planter is? Okay...Well, do you mind if we bust up the concrete? Okay, thanks, Mike. We'll let you know if we find anything." Dean tucked his phone into his pocket. "Over there, where that whiskey barrel planter is? That little concrete slab was poured over the lid to an old cistern. Mike said there's a sledgehammer in the shed, and he gave the go-ahead to break up the concrete."

Sam went after the hammer, while Devon and Dean walked over to the planter. "Do you think she could've gotten his body out here?" Devon asked quietly, trying to imagine the struggle the slight girl would have had dragging the dead weight across the lawn.

"She probably had some serious adrenaline pumping, so I suppose it's possible." Sam returned with the sledgehammer and a wheelbarrow, and the two men wrestled the planter off the concrete and onto the grass. Then Devon stood back as they took turns beating at the slab until it finally lay in pieces. She helped load the chunks of cement into the wheelbarrow, and Dean shoved the remaining pieces off of the rusted metal lid, about two feet in diameter. He disappeared into the shed again, returning with a crowbar. It took both men to get the bar in position and shove until the cast iron finally began to shift.

After much sweat and effort, the threesome stood looking down at the hole in the ground. Dean grabbed his small flashlight from a pocket and shined it down into the blackness, but it didn't come near to reaching the bottom of the huge underground tank. Dean shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together as he looked at Devon, then at Sam, rolling his eyes. He tucked his flashlight back into his pocket, and placed the fist of one hand into the open palm of the other. Devon watched in amazement as Sam did the same.

"Are you two seriously playing rock/paper/scissors to see who goes down there?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yeah," they answered in unison, looking at her as if she were asking the silliest question they had ever heard.

"Forget it. If you tie a rope to me, I'll go down."

Dean looked at her, one eyebrow cocked in disbelief. "You? Want to go down there? No way." He was shaking his head as she stared back at him, frustration on her face.

"Why not?"

"Because," he started, and trailed off as she stared at him, eyebrows raised, silently demanding an answer.

"Because why?"

His brow furrowed as anger began to stir at her tone. "Because it's dangerous, that's why." He turned away, looking at Sam. "Sammy, get that rope from the trunk, will you?"

"And if you go down there, it won't be dangerous?"

"If there's something down there, you don't have the experience to handle it."

"What's gonna be down there? This thing has been sealed up for years!"

"What if Bennett's ghost shows up down there? What would you do, Devon?" Both voices had been raised, and getting louder, but at his words, Devon stopped, feeling a little foolish.

"I didn't think of that."

"No kidding," Dean retorted. Sam handed Dean the rope, which broke off the glaring match between the two combatants, and the men began to tie off the rope, tying one end around Dean's waist. Sam handed his brother the large flashlight he had retrieved from the trunk, and Dean stuck it in his belt. He stepped up onto the edge of the opening, and Sam wrapped the rope around his forearm, ready to lower his brother slowly down into the cistern. Dean nodded, then stepped off into the hole, and Sam strained to hold the rope as Dean began his descent.  
Devon shined a light into the darkness, keeping an eye on Dean's downward progress, secretly glad she hadn't been the one to descend into that inky blackness. After what seemed like forever, Dean shouted that he had touched bottom. Devon and Sam watched as Dean's flashlight made a bright circle in the darkness; then he shouted up to them, his voice echoing and hollow from the bottom of the tank. "We've got bones down here. Human bones. I think we just found Bennett."

"I'll get you some salt and lighter fluid-do you have your lighter, Dean?" Sam called down.

"Yeah. Lower down the sawed-off, too-just in case he decides to show up." Sam came back shortly with a duffle bag, placing the accelerant, salt and the shotgun inside.

"Be careful, Dean," he shouted as he lowered the bag on another length of rope.

"You know me, Sammy," Dean called back, and Sam shook his head as he felt Dean tug on the rope, removing the items.

"That's what worries me," Sam muttered under his breath, and Devon looked at him, her eyes widening.

"Is he going to be all right?" she asked quietly, worry in her eyes.  
"Of course he will," Sam answered, staring steadily down into the hole.

Dean tucked the flashlight under one arm, shaking the salt liberally over the bones lying on the floor. As he pulled the lighter fluid from the bag, he felt the temperature drop and saw his breath fog in the air before him. Then he was picked up and tossed from behind, sending the flashlight and can of fluid clattering across the floor as he hit the far wall, almost knocking the breath from his body. "Sammy, some light!" he shouted, and Sam and Devon aimed their flashlight beams down, searching for the angry spirit.

"Dean! Where are you?" Sam shouted, then heard the blast of the shotgun in the cistern, echoing loudly. He heard noises, feet scrambling, metal clanging and an occasional curse from his brother as Sam and Devon searched desperately with their flashlights. Then he saw Dean's light raise up from the floor, and Dean shined it on his face, looking up towards them.

"I'm okay, Sammy," he shouted, shining the light around until he saw the can of lighter fluid, which he retrieved and quickly emptied over Robert Bennett's bones. He grabbed his lighter, snapping it to life with a flick of his thumb, and tossed it onto the remains, stepping back as the flames shot high into the air. Robert Bennett materialized once again, charging at him, but he was reduced to ash before he could do any further harm, and Dean smirked at him as he faded into oblivion. "Take that, you wife-beating son of a bitch."

* * *

Dean sat on the couch in Mike and Sheila's living room, holding ice to his head. He felt like he'd been run over by a truck, but that was nothing new to him. Devon had brought him the ice pack, and cleaned the blood from his face, not saying a word, and not meeting his eyes once. He knew she was thinking about what would have happened if she had been down there instead of him, and he hoped that maybe now she understood.

She came back from the kitchen, holding a beer for each of them, handing one to each of them before sitting down herself and taking a swallow. She hesitated for a moment, then looked Dean in the eye. "You were right, Dean. I'm sorry I argued with you about going down there."

He nodded in reply. "I'm not trying to hold you back, Devon. If you're set on doing this, fine-but we will do our damned best to keep you safe, even if you fight us on it." He took a drink of his beer and stared down at the floor. "I think you have some good instincts, you just need some experience and knowledge to back that up. And that takes time." He looked back into her hazel eyes, which were staring back at him in shock.

"Did you just give me a compliment?" Dean rolled his eyes and gave a tired sigh.

"Yeah, I guess. Don't let it go to your head."

Sam smiled, ducking his head, as Devon answered, "Yes, sir." But she was smiling as she spoke, and Dean's lips curved in a one-sided smile in answer.

They finished their beers, and Devon took a deep breath. "Well-do we try to speak to Melinda now? Should I go to the nursery?"  
Sam nodded, and Dean followed suit. "I'm coming in with you, just in case. But maybe she'll come to you, since you spoke to her already."  
Devon nodded, then looked at Dean. "And if she won't go-we'll have to burn her bones?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?" he said, and they all stood, Dean moaning a little, and headed up the stairs.

Devon stepped into the nursery, and turned as Dean made a move to follow. "Please-can you wait in the doorway? She's so afraid of men, I'm afraid she won't show if you're in here." Dean sighed, nodding in reluctant agreement, and stood his ground, the sawed-off hanging from one hand. Sam was right behind him, similarly armed. Devon stepped to the middle of the room, standing quietly for a moment, then softly calling out. "Melinda? Melinda, are you here?" Nothing happened, and she took a breath, closing her eyes. "Melinda-Robert is gone. We sent him away forever. He will never hurt you again." A chill ran up Devon's spine, and she opened her eyes. Melinda stood before her, a quiet keening issuing from her pale lips. "Robert is gone forever, Melinda. He can't hurt you. He can't hurt Becca. You can go now. You can go be with your baby." The wailing sound grew slightly louder, and Devon felt tears sting her eyes. "You can let go now, Melinda. You can go to Sophie."  
The spirit of Melinda Bennett slowly raised her face upward, appearing to listen. Then, for the first time, they heard her speak. "Sophie? Sophie, Mommy's coming. Mommy's coming!" she called out, and as Devon, Sam and Dean looked on, she began to glow, brighter and brighter until they could no longer look directly at her. Gradually the brilliant light faded, then disappeared completely, and the spirit was gone.

Dean reached Devon as her legs gave way, and caught her before she fell to the floor. "Come on," he said softly, leading her out of the room and into Mike and Sheila's bedroom, where he helped her sit on the edge of the bed. "Devon? You okay?"

She looked up at him, a dazed expression in her eyes. "I think so." She leaned forward for a moment, then looked up into his worried green eyes. "She's gone, Dean." A tear escaped her eye and she brushed it impatiently away, but it was followed closely by another. He sat down next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders, and she let herself rest against his shoulder until she had composed herself again. Sam stood in the doorway, smiling understandingly at her as she glanced his way.

* * *

Sam called Mike to let him know their ghosts were gone, and Sheila begged them to stay until they got back home. Sam and Dean went out to the back yard and replaced the cover on the old cistern, ready for Mike to bury once again in concrete. By the time they were finished, Becca came rushing in the front door, calling for Devon.

"Hi, Devon!" the little girl cried happily, climbing onto Devon's lap and hugging her with soft little arms around her neck. "Is that lady gone, Devon?" Her blue eyes gazed soberly at Devon, and she smiled at the child.

"Yes, Devon. She went home. She won't come back any more."

"She was scared. But she's home now, right? She's home with her baby?"

"Yes, Becca, she went home to see her baby. So she won't be scared any more." Becca nodded wisely, looking at Devon for a moment before climbing down and running back to her mother.

"Mommy, I'm hungry."

Sheila laughed quietly. "Well! I guess things are back to normal around here." She stood, taking her daughter's hand. "Let's go find you a snack, sweet girl."

"I want goldfishes," Becca demanded as they went down the hall.

* * *

Later that night, Devon got out of the shower and dressed in a pair of pj pants and a worn Captain Morgan t-shirt, sitting back against the headboard of her bed and stretching out. She had a glass of her favorite Irish whiskey sitting next to her on the bedside table, and she sent a text to her mother, telling her she was having a good time on her vacation. Not so much, but at least this way her mom wasn't worrying about her.

She leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. A quiet knock sounded at the connecting door, and she called out, "Come in."

Sam stuck his head in, smiling, and Devon smiled in answer. "Just wanted to say good night, Devon."

"Good night, Sam."

Sam stepped back, and Dean came into the room, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Devon picked hers up and held it up in silent salute, and they both took a sip. "You did good today, Devon. I, uh, just wanted to tell you that."

She gave him a tired smile, and sighed quietly. "Thanks, Dean."

His eyes lingered on her face for a moment longer. "You okay?'

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll be okay."

"Well, g'night, then."

She looked into his eyes one more time. "Good night, Dean." He left the room then, pulling the door shut behind him. Devon slid down underneath the covers, snuggling in for the night, drifting quickly off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

By dark the next night, the Impala was pulling up at Harvelle's Roadhouse in central Nebraska. Devon crawled out of the back seat, glad to be out of the car at last. Sam seemed okay now, but she watched him with concern as he rubbed the back of his neck and turned to look at her.

"Sam, how's your head? Any better?"

"I'm okay," he answered quietly, and Devon met Dean's eyes over the roof of the car. He was worried too, she could tell, although she had the feeling she didn't know the whole story. She planned to ask Dean what was going on when and if she got the chance.

They walked into the dingy building together, and Dean greeted the blond standing near the bar. Sam just asked, "Where's Ash?" and pushed past her as she answered.

"And I'm fine," she tossed after him, looking annoyed.

"Sorry, he's, we're...kind of on a bit of a timetable," Dean said ruefully, then followed after his brother.

The blond shook her head at the guys before turning to look at Devon. "I'm Jo."

Devon smiled a little. "Devon. Nice to meet you, Jo."

"Likewise, at least you acknowledged my existence."

"Yeah, they're kind of on a mission right now, I guess."

"This is my mom, Ellen," Jo said, a nod of her head indicating the brunette behind the bar. "Mom, this is Devon."

"Have a seat, Devon," Ellen invited, and Devon took a seat at the bar. The older woman looked her in the eye, a one-sided smile on her face.

"So how did you get tied up with those two?"

"Well, that's kind of a long story," Devon answered, smiling back. Ellen opened a beer and sat it on the counter in front of her.  
"Well, I've got time."

Devon looked into Ellen's eyes and saw sincere interest there, and she smiled a little, reaching for the beer. "Okay-you asked for it." She talked quietly, telling her about everything that had happened in the past several weeks, and Ellen nodded understandingly, asking an occasional question. When she had finished, downing the rest of her beer, the older woman reached for the bottle and laid a hand on her arm.

"Your daddy was a good man, Devon. I knew him for years. He was a helluva hunter, and he loved you, which was his main reason for staying away from you." She let the smile fade from her face as she held up another beer, and Devon nodded. "He wouldn't be happy about the road you're on, honey. Not happy at all."

"I know. But he's not here any more. And I feel like this is what I'm supposed to do."

"Don't mind her, I've been hearing the same speech my whole life," Jo interjected over Devon's shoulder. Ellen leveled a hard look at her daughter, then turned to go to the other end of the bar where a customer had just taken a seat. "My dad died hunting, too," Jo said, sitting down beside her, back against the bar. Devon turned to face the same way, and her eyes came to rest on Sam and Dean, sitting at a far table with a man who looked like he was still half-crocked, sporting a mullet and staring at the screen of a laptop. Jo pointed towards the table with her chin. "That's Ash. He's a genius. Believe it or not."

"So, do you hunt?" Devon asked, watching as Jo made a wry face and shook her head.

"Are you kidding? I'd love to, but I have to help run this place, and Mom would skin me alive. Someday I will, though-count on that." Jo glanced at Devon and took a breath before continuing. "So-you and Dean-are you guys..."

"No!" Devon said emphatically, and a little too quickly.

Jo looked at her quietly for a moment. "Right." Devon met her gaze for a second, then glanced away, uncomfortable at the directness in her eyes. "He kind of looks at you, you know, when you're not looking. And you kind of do the same thing to him."

Devon felt herself blush, and spoke quickly. "I thought maybe you and he were..."

Jo snorted. "Not hardly. He treats me like a kid."

Devon could read the buried hurt in her voice, but was unsure how to respond. Jo stood as Sam and Dean headed their way, effectively ending the conversation and solving that little problem.

"Ellen, can we get a couple of beers," he asked, then headed for a table, handing one to his brother. Jo strolled over to the jukebox and put in some money, pushing the buttons, and the sounds of REO Speedwagon began to filter through the speakers. Dean looked up at Jo, making a face. Devon watched as the two gave each other grief about the music choice; she could see in the way Jo looked at Dean that she had a full-blown crush on the man. She turned back to the bar, striking up further conversation with Ellen, squashing the urge to go sit at their table.  
A short while later, she heard Sam's voice, and he sounded agitated. "We have a match. We've gotta go."

Dean said goodbye to Jo, and the brothers headed for the door. Devon stood up, calling out to them. "Hey, guys! Are you just gonna leave me here?" She walked towards them, and Dean turned to face her, putting his hands on her arms.

"Look, Devon, we have to go take care of some family business. I called Bobby. He's on his way to pick you up and get you back to Sioux Falls so you can pick up your car."

"Dean," she began, but he shook his head.

"I told you, this is family business, Devon. You're gonna have to sit this one out." He looked at her silently for a moment, then turned and left, the screen door slamming as he went out. He came back long enough to set her bag inside the door, then she heard the Impala fire up, and the sound of its engine faded slowly into the distance. She turned, her brows drawn together in a worried frown, and met Jo's eyes. She looked towards the door again, sighing to herself.

"Devon? We're gonna close up, pretty quiet around here tonight. We've got an extra bed, you're welcome to it until Bobby gets here," Ellen offered, and Devon smiled gratefully.

"Thanks, Ellen."

Devon offered to sweep the floor as Jo and Ellen took care of the rest of the clean-up. When they were finished, Ellen turned to Ash, speaking sternly. "Now, Ash-when you get tired, go to your room tonight, okay? I don't want customers coming in to see you sleeping on the pool table again. You hear me?"

"I hear you," he answered, still absorbed in his computer. "Besides, if I sleep on the pool table, I have to leave my pants on."

Ellen looked at Devon, a slow smile curving her lips as she shook her head. "Now, why didn't I think of that?" Devon grinned in answer as Ellen put an arm around her shoulders, and the three women headed back to the living quarters to get ready for bed.

* * *

It was about six the next morning, as they sat around Ellen and Jo's kitchen table drinking coffee, that a knock sounded at the door. Ellen grinned and rose from her chair. "Gotta be Bobby. No one else would knock back here." She opened the door and smiled at the slightly grizzled and rumpled-looking man standing outside. He rubbed roughly at his beard, nodding and smiling a little at Ellen as she stood there. "Bobby Singer! Long time no see!" He stepped into the kitchen, and Ellen hugged him.

He looked slightly uncomfortable for a moment, but then put his arms around her and returned the favor. "Ellen," he said. "Good to see you." Then he nodded his head towards the table, adjusting his cap. "How are you, Jo?" His eyes came to rest on Devon next, and she smiled a little nervously.

"Hi, Bobby. I'm Devon. I'm sure you've heard about me, hopefully not all bad."

"Good to meet you, Devon. I was sorry to hear about your Dad."

Devon nodded. "Thanks." She glanced down at her coffee cup, then back up into the older man's kind eyes. "I'm sorry you had to drive all the way down here to pick me up. I expected to be going along with Sam and Dean, and instead I'm an inconvenience to you."

He looked at her silently for a split second, then said, "They didn't expect this to come up either. And it's not a problem, don't worry about it. Ellen's coffee is worth the trip anyway."

Ellen laughed. "Well, how about some eggs to go with it?"

"Sounds good to me," he answered, taking off his jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair next to Devon. He sat down, and he and Ellen chatted, exchanging stories and news from other hunters they both knew. Devon sat back and listened, smiling occasionally at a remark or funny story, and before she knew it the morning had disappeared and it was time for them to leave.

* * *

"Don't think you're gonna hurt my feelings if you want to sleep," Bobby said as Devon stifled a huge yawn. "I'm sure you didn't get much sleep last night."

Devon smiled. "Actually, I slept pretty well, considering. I guess my life's been in such an uproar lately, it doesn't phase me any more." They had just taken a pit stop at the small town of Thedford, roughly halfway to the South Dakota border. Devon debated with herself, then decided to ask the question that was plaguing her. "Bobby, if you don't mind me asking-what is going on with the guys? Does it have something to do with Sam's headaches?"

Bobby drove silently, staring straight ahead, for a few moments, and Devon thought her question would remain unanswered. But he finally spoke, albeit a little reluctantly. "He's got some, I don't know, psychic vision thing going on that we can't figure out. He's seeing people's deaths. He and Dean are trying to get there and stop that vision from coming true."

"Oh." She honestly couldn't come up with anything else to say. Visions? "Has he always had these-visions?"

"Nope. Just started a few months ago." Bobby paused again, then continued. "Sam thinks it's connected to the yellow-eyed demon that killed their mother. And, we think, their dad."

Devon stared at Bobby's profile, her eyes wide. "Their parents were killed by a...a demon?"

"Yup." Bobby glanced her way. "You wanna be a hunter, you're gonna deal with demons. That's a fact."

Devon turned her eyes to the scenery outside her window, not sure what to say, or how to feel about Bobby's statement. She had come to grips with the existence of werewolves, ghosts, several other creatures that Sam and Dean had told her about. But demons? She felt like someone was twisting her stomach into knots. "I think I will try to get some sleep, Bobby, if you don't mind," she said quietly, and he nodded, shooting her a sidelong look.

"That's fine. Look, I didn't mean to shock you. But you might as well know what you're getting yourself into. Maybe you should sleep on that."

Devon bunched her jacket up and laid her head over onto it, feeling as if she'd just been scolded. She suddenly felt very alone, and very out-of-place, and wished for sleep to come to make the miles speed by faster. All she wanted right at that moment was to be home where she could battle through her chaotic thoughts and feelings in private. She closed her eyes and let the motion of the car gradually rock her to sleep.

* * *

Devon climbed out of the passenger side of Bobby's Chevelle, relieved to finally be there, stretching to ease the stiffness in her neck. She had slept for about an hour, but the rest of the trip had been mostly silent, and seemed to go on forever. She had never been so glad to see the Sioux Falls City Limits sign in her life.

"Come on in, I've got some sandwich stuff in the fridge if you're hungry," Bobby offered, but Devon shook her head.

"Thanks, Bobby, but I think I'm heading home. All I want is to get into my pajamas and crash."

Bobby looked at her, his eyes narrowing a touch. "Suit yourself, Devon." She heard him huff out a breath, and he continued. "Look, I haven't been too friendly, and I'm sorry. Your daddy would not want you to be doing this, girl..."

"I am so tired of hearing that!" Devon felt her temper flare as she met Bobby's eyes. "I know my Dad wanted better things for me. I understand that. But my Dad was killed by a monster, trying to keep other people from being killed by that monster, and how do I go to my normal little job every day and pretend I don't know about that? Or about the other creatures that are out there, hunting innocent people? How do I live with myself when that's going on, Bobby? You tell me."

"You just keep your head down and do it. Let people like Sam and Dean, and me, take care of it. Let yourself have a good life, a long life. Get married, have some kids, join the PTA, take a ceramics class." Devon made a face, and Bobby actually smiled. "Okay, maybe that was too much."

"Do you think?" Devon couldn't stop the smile that was teasing at her lips, and her anger evaporated. "Ceramics class? Really, Bobby?" She laughed a little at the reluctant smile on his bearded face. "Okay, I guess I can come in for a sandwich."

Bobby nodded, the crooked smile still on his face. "Okay."

They went into the house, the tension between them much relieved, and ate together, and then Bobby pulled out the whiskey. Devon held up a hand. "Not that it doesn't sound great, Bobby-but I have to drive home. I'd better not."

"Oh, hell-if you can't drive home, I have room here, you know that. Come on, you gonna let an old man drink alone?"

"I don't know, Bobby..."

"If you don't like the comfy couch, there's an extra bed in the first room at the top of the stairs."

Devon smiled, her resolve melted. "All right. Whiskey it is."

Bobby winked at her and poured them each a generous portion. Then he reached for the remote and turned on the television, and they sat in companionable silence, sipping their drinks, watching an old Lucy rerun and laughing occasionally. When the show was over, Bobby turned down the volume a little, refilling his glass and holding the bottle to gesture towards her, his eyebrows raised in question.

"No, I'm fine for now." She looked back at the TV for a moment, then gave in to her impulse and turned her gaze to Bobby again. "Bobby-what happened to Sam and Dean's parents?"

Bobby turned off the television and stared into his glass. "Are you really sure you want to know, Devon?" He glanced up at her, and the grave look on his face made her falter for just a moment. Then she nodded.

* * *

Devon sat up on the bed, frustrated with her lack of success in the sleep department. She leaned forward, resting her pounding head in her hands. She had thrown back too much of Bobby's whiskey as he told her the Winchester family history, because it was horrifying, and sad, and sickening. At the moment she was wishing she could turn back time, back to before her father's death, before she knew any of the evil things in the world existed. Back then, it was fun to go to a horror movie once in awhile, get that adrenaline rush of being scared, knowing in the back of your mind that it wasn't real. Now the reality and the magnitude of what the few hunters in the world were fighting against was making her feel like a child waking from a horrible nightmare only to find that the nightmare was real.

She got up and headed down the stairs, hoping to find something in Bobby's bathroom to ease her headache. She walked by quietly, trying not to wake him as he slept, leaning back in his desk chair. She found an old bottle of aspirin in the medicine chest, and washed the tablets down with a generous swallow of water. Then she walked back to the couch, glancing at Bobby to make sure she hadn't disturbed him, and curled up there, pulling the faded old blanket from the back and closing her eyes. Somehow, staying close to Bobby was comforting, and she finally drifted off to sleep, listening to the gentle rhythm of his gentle snoring.

* * *

It was almost a month before Devon heard from Sam and Dean. She had gone back to work at the office, telling everyone she had a great vacation, lying to her friends and to her mom. She hated it. She had called Bobby a couple of times, just to check in for news of the Winchesters, but it was also nice to talk without worrying about saying something she shouldn't. With her mother, with her coworkers, with her friends she had to filter everything, make sure she didn't mention the big secret in any way, and it was exhausting. She was not a deceptive person by nature, and she didn't like it. In fact, she hated it.

She had just finished mowing her lawn when her cell phone rang. It was Bobby, calling to tell her the boys were on their way to Sioux Falls, and Dean had asked him to call and let her know. They had a lead on a job in Minnesota, if she wanted to go along. She called her boss, telling him she had another family emergency. She called her mother, telling her she had to attend a business conference. Then she showered, packed and hit the road for Sioux Falls, feeling more alive than she had since coming home. She smiled a little to herself as she muttered, "There is something seriously wrong with you," then stepped on the gas as she headed out of town.


	12. Chapter 12

Devon got to Bobby's ahead of Sam and Dean, walking in at Bobby's call of 'Come in' when she knocked. He was standing behind his desk, poring over a map. "You brought camping gear?" he asked, barely looking up.

"Yeah, that's what you told me, not that I have a lot of camping stuff to bring." She walked closer, peering down at the map. "Where are we going?"

Bobby pointed. "Right here. Hayes Lake State Park. There have been some attacks on campers, three people are missing. There are black bears in the area, so of course that's the official story. But we think it might be a wendigo."

"Wendigo?"

"Nasty creature, used to be human. Likes manburger. Here." Bobby handed Devon a well-worn book. "Read up, get the basics, and the boys will fill you in on the practical stuff when you get there."

Devon nodded, sitting down on the couch and opening the book where Bobby had it marked. She was completely absorbed in the lore when Sam and Dean came in. She looked up, opting to remain quiet when she saw the stormy look on Dean's face.

"Who peed in your Wheaties this morning, Sunshine?" Bobby asked curtly, and Dean shot him a dark look.

"We kind of had a run-in with Ellen and Jo," Sam said, "and we didn't really part on the best terms."

Bobby looked at Sam, folding his arms over his chest. "What the hell happened?"

"We stopped back at the Roadhouse after Oklahoma. Jo and Ellen were going at it, yelling at each other, breaking stuff. We kind of walked in on it. Jo had a file done up for a job, research she did herself, and she wanted to go to Philly to go after it. Ellen came unglued."

"So, what does that have to do with you?"

Dean sighed loudly and continued the story. "Jo gave the file to us, and we went to Philly to check it out. But she showed up too. And then Ellen found out. Jo got in a pretty hairy situation, thanks to me..."

"Dean, that wasn't your fault," Sam interrupted, but Dean just glared at him briefly and continued.

"Anyway, we got her out, took care of the nasty son of a bitch that was killing those women, and Ellen flew into Philly in time for the ride home. Which was great fun, by the way. When we got back, those two went after each other again, and I told Ellen I was sorry I lied, but that Jo's dad would be proud of her, that she did a good job. She got seriously pissed off, said she didn't want to hear that from me, and told us she wanted to talk to Jo alone."

"You lied to Ellen?" Bobby asked in disbelief.

"I did at first, Jo begged me not to tell her that she was there with us. I shouldn't have, I know. But I did. Anyway, Jo came storming outside, and wouldn't talk to me, but finally she told us what her mom had said. She said it was Dad's fault that her dad was killed."

"Dean." Bobby looked steadily at Dean until the younger man finally met his eyes. "We don't know the whole story."

"I damn sure understand why he never went back to the Roadhouse. Why he never mentioned Ellen or Jo to us. Sometimes I wonder if we really knew him at all." Dean turned, his eyes coming to rest on Devon for just a moment, long enough for her to see the pain and anger in their green depths. Then he stalked from the room into the kitchen, and Sam shoved his hands into his pockets, silent.

Devon stood, closing the book in her hands. She laid it on the corner of the desk as Bobby looked at Sam, concern on his face. "I don't know if he's in any shape to be going on a hunt. He's gonna need to focus, Sam, and when he gets wound up about your dad... Can you snap him out of this? Because otherwise, I'm gonna see who else is close to handle this thing." He looked up to see Devon walking into the kitchen, and he looked back at Sam, one eyebrow raised. "Think you should go in there?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess we'll see. Maybe he'll listen to her. If I hear yelling, I'll go." Bobby nodded, and Sam came closer as they studied the map together.

Dean was standing, his arms folded, staring out the kitchen window at nothing. Devon spoke softly as she walked up behind him, stopping an arm's length away. "Stuff about your dad really pushes your buttons, huh? I can relate."

"You don't have a clue," Dean snapped quietly.

"All right, I don't know exactly what it was like for you, but admit it, Dean-we both have issues with our dads."

He turned to face her, his eyes dark, the muscle at his jaw line clenched, and when he spoke, his voice was low and angry. "Don't stand there and pretend to understand about me and my dad. You have your little girl disappointment that your daddy wasn't around. My situation was a little more intense. You don't understand jack."

Devon folded her arms and squared off with Dean, her eyes glowing with anger now. "Really. I don't understand that your dad is your hero, and someone just threw a great big rock at that John Winchester statue you keep on your mantle? You know your dad wasn't perfect raising you, but you didn't know he could make a mistake on the job, right? Because he was human, just like the rest of us, Dean."

He took a step closer to Devon, but she stood her ground as he glared down at her. "According to my dad, you didn't make mistakes when you were hunting. Ever. There were no excuses. Just do the job, perfectly, or else. He drilled that into my head, into Sam's head. We didn't matter, only the job. It didn't matter what we thought, just that we listened to him and did exactly what he said, when he said it, without question. Yes, sir. No, sir. Don't talk back, don't argue, don't think."

Devon looked into his eyes as he ranted, and for a moment saw the ghost of a young Dean, angry at his father, hurt by his constant judgement and criticism, and her own anger faded to nothing. "I'm sorry. You're right. I have no right to say I understand what you went through. Maybe I don't. But I'm willing to listen, isn't that worth something?" Dean stared down into her eyes silently for a moment, and she found that she was a little short of breath. That moment seemed to stretch out for an eternity, and then the sound of Sam's voice in the doorway snapped her out of it.

"So are we going to Minnesota, or not? Do you want to sit this one out, Dean?"

Dean made a disdainful face and squared his shoulders. "Hell, no, I don't want to sit it out. Do you want to sit it out?" he asked Devon, who raised her eyebrows and shook her head in the negative. "See? We don't want to sit it out, what's wrong with you, Sammy?" He pushed past his brother to walk to the desk and lean over the map with Bobby, speaking to him quietly. Sam looked at Devon, a one-sided smile on his face, nodding in approval. She smiled in answer and followed him back into the room to listen as plans were finalized for their trip to Minnesota.

* * *

Devon sat sideways in the back seat, head resting on the pillow behind her back, her eyes closed for the moment. She had been reading, but her eyes were tired, and she could use a nap anyway. When they got to Minnesota, they were going to be hiking and setting up camp, and there might not be a good opportunity to sleep. She gave in to the drowsiness, and was soon out, the book sliding from her lap to the floor.  
Sam glanced in the mirror at the quiet thud, and smiled a little. His smile broadened and he shook his head as he looked over at his brother, whose eyes were on the rear view mirror. "Dude, how are you staying on the road?" Sam teased quietly.

"Why?" Dean asked curtly, his eyes back on the road ahead.

"Because your eyes have been in the back seat ever since we left Bobby's," Sam said, still keeping his voice down. "That's why."

The know-it-all smile on Sam's face was irritating Dean. "Eat me, Sammy." It didn't erase the look from Sam's face, but at least it made him feel better. Truth was, he was right. Devon had a very distracting habit of nibbling on her lower lip as she read, and it had been driving him crazy. Now that she was asleep, maybe he could focus.

It was a little over seven hours to their destination, and they made good time, other than making one stop for food and gas. They drove as far as they could into Hayes Lake State Park, then parked the Impala and prepared for the hike further north into the Red Lake Indian Reservation territory where the attacks had taken place. "I hope they cleared the rest of the campers out of that area," Sam muttered as they loaded themselves up for the hike. He turned, two small leather folders in his hand. He handed one to Devon and the other to Dean. Devon opened hers, smiling slightly at the contents.

"I'm a Minnesota State Park Ranger, huh? Cool."

"Yeah, just in case someone tries to stop us from going in. The area's supposed to be closed to campers now."

They did get stopped once, but after flashing their badges, the uniformed ranger let them through, and they began to hike their way through the woods, making their way past the established trails. Sam checked the GPS frequently, leading the way, and after about an hour and a half of steady walking, they came to a clearing and stopped. "This is right about where the last camper went missing," Sam said, carefully lowering his pack from his shoulders, then coming to help Devon with hers. "We should set up camp here. I'll set up the protected circle if you guys want to get some wood for a fire for tonight."

Dean nodded in agreement, and he and Devon set off into the woods. They made several trips back to the camping area, their arms loaded with firewood. "What do you think, a couple more loads?" she asked as Dean drained his bottle of water.

"Yeah, that should do it, I think." They set off again, but weren't having much luck finding anything bigger than a twig. Dean didn't want to get too far from camp, but they needed to keep their fire going, so he reluctantly ventured out, telling Devon to stay close.

It was getting close to dusk, the sun was lowering in the west and filtering weakly through the trees. When they each had an armload, Dean decided that for safety's sake they should head back. Devon walked ahead of him a step or two, and jumped a little when she felt his hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him, and he held a finger to his lips, signalling her to be quiet. He helped her to carefully lay down her load of wood, and her eyes grew wide as she heard a noise, turning away from him and looking around wildly, her heart pounding. He grabbed her from behind, his hand firmly over her mouth, pulling her up tight against him as he pressed his back against the trunk of the huge tree they were beneath. She barely heard him as he whispered, "Shhhh" next to her ear, and she reached back, grasping at his leg, shaking with terror. She could hear the sound of something big walking nearby, and from the sound of it, the creature was dragging something-or someone. As it passed by on the other side of the tree, Dean's grip on her got even tighter, and he pressed himself even closer to the tree. And then they heard it, a moan of pain, and then a weak voice saying, "Help, please help...," then a growl and a thud, and the voice stopped. Devon felt a tear trickle down her cheek as the footsteps of the creature grew more distant, and then there was nothing but silence again.

They stood there unmoving for a few more minutes, and Dean finally lowered his hand from Devon's mouth. She was still shaking, from fear or adrenaline or both, and her knees were weak as she stepped carefully away from him. She felt his hand on her shoulder and turned to look at him, another tear making its way down her cheek. "Are you okay?" he said very quietly, and she looked into his eyes for a moment, then slowly shook her head.

"N-No," she managed, and he pulled her into his arms and held her until the shaking had calmed down.

"We're gonna be okay, Devon. And with any luck, we'll save that guy. Okay?" She nodded, stepping back and looking up at him again.

"Okay," she said softly, then turned and began to gather the firewood she'd been holding earlier. Dean bent to help her, laying the last piece across the armful she held. On impulse, she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Then the firewood hit the ground as she put her arms around his neck and kissed him for real, his lips parting to welcome her. He crushed her to his chest, his arms surrounding her, and then suddenly she was against the tree as Dean kissed her hungrily, one hand on her face and the other at the small of her back, holding her tight against him.  
Dean finally raised his head, looking down at her, closing his eyes for a moment as they both fought to regain their composure. "We need to get back to camp."

Devon nodded. "I know." He stepped back from her, and once again they went about the task of picking up their scattered firewood, avoiding looking at each other. They headed back to the campsite, where Sam had finished the last of the Anasazi symbols and was pulling the tent from the bag.

"Good, you're back, I was getting worried. Dean, can you help me get this tent set up?" Dean went to aid his brother, filling him in on their close call with the wendigo, and Devon searched through Dean's bag to find the small hatchet to pound in the tent pegs.

They heated some canned stew over the fire, eating more because they knew they should than because any of them were feeling hungry. After cleaning up, Sam looked at Devon. "Did Bobby give you that topographic map?" She nodded and went to her backpack, finding the map and handing it to Sam.

"How do we find that thing?" she asked hesitantly, wondering just how crazy a person had to be to actually go looking for something like that.

"They like dark and dank, like caves, or old mines. The last one we killed was in an abandoned mine. Bobby marked some possible locations on this map for us, hopefully between tracking and this we can find the bastard." He looked up from the map. "You two can have the tent, I'll take the first watch. I got a pretty good nap in on the way here."

"Wake me at two, I'll take over," Dean said, and Sam nodded in agreement. He and Devon entered the tent, which was fairly roomy, meant for four, the only tent Bobby had for them to use. Devon was feeling very self-conscious after what had happened earlier in the evening, and kept her eyes off of Dean, laying out her sleeping bag and lying down on it in silence. Dean looked down at her for a moment, then sat down next to her, reaching for her hand. She looked up at him, almost afraid of what she would read on his face.

She was having a hard time focusing as he was gently rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. Then he lifted it to his lips and kissed it softly, and her heart began to pound. "Want to continue where we left off?" he whispered, stretching out to lie on his side beside her, supporting himself with one elbow.

"Are you crazy?" she whispered back, her eyes wide. "Sam's right outside!"

He leaned over to nibble softly at her neck, and she caught her breath. Then he raised up slightly to look into her eyes, his sparkling in spite of the dim light. "Then don't make any noise," he whispered, and bent to kiss her, sending her resistance whimpering into a far corner of her mind. His hand slipped underneath her shirt, sliding slowly upward until he cupped her breast, and Devon arched her back slightly, her body drawn to his touch. She reached up, running her fingers through the soft, short hair at the nape of his neck, nipping gently at his bottom lip as his fingers found their way beneath her bra. He raised his head slightly to look down at her as his fingers worked their magic, and he kissed her again, hard, driven by the desire on her face. She slipped her hand beneath his shirt, and a muffled moan escaped his lips as he kissed her.

"Right, don't make any noise," she teased as he raised his head again to look down at her. A lascivious grin curved his lips, and she felt suddenly as if lava filled her veins, but as he bent towards her again, his lips barely brushing against hers, Sam called out.

"Guys, it's out there. I can hear it."

"Damn it," Dean cursed quietly, kissing Devon fast and hard once, then getting up, holding out a hand to help her up. She adjusted her clothing, blushing as Dean watched her, and she stepped to the tent flap, unzipping it and turning to face him.

"You coming?" she asked, and he smiled a little sheepishly, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I'll be out in a minute," he said, and she grinned, ducking through the opening.

Dean watched her leave, blowing out a tense breath. "Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself, took a couple of deep breaths, and stepped back out into the night.


	13. Chapter 13

Sam held a finger up to his lips as Devon approached him, then pointed to the north. Dean came up on his other side, and they all stood still as stone, listening. Then a shout echoed through the trees, sounding close enough that it made Devon jump and clutch at Sam's arm.

"Help! Help me! Please, somebody help me!"

"It's not real, Devon," Sam said quietly. "They can imitate human voices. It's trying to lure us out."

She nodded. She had read that fact in the book Bobby had given her, but it sounded so real now. She forced herself to stay calm, trying not to think of the man who had cried out so near them earlier in the day. What if he had escaped? What if it was really him?

"Devon." She looked up as Dean spoke, quietly and calmly. "Devon, it's not real. Believe me." She looked into his eyes and nodded slowly, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

"What do we do?" she asked in a whisper.

"We stay in this circle. And at daybreak we start looking. But not until it's light. Until then, we don't move outside the protection. Understand?"

Dean looked at her until she nodded in answer, then turned his eyes back to the trees.

Devon threw a couple of pieces of wood on the fire and sat down, her legs crossed, next to it, hugging her arms close to her body. It wasn't cold, but she felt chilled through. She held her hands towards the fire, trying to absorb some of the warmth. Dean came to one knee next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You should really try to get some sleep. Sam and I will stand watch. Tomorrow could be a rough day."

She looked up at him nervously. "I don't think I can sleep."

"You should try. Don't worry, we won't let anything happen to you." He leaned in to kiss her lips gently. "I promise."

She looked into his eyes for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Okay, I'll try." He stood, holding out a hand to help her to her feet, and she walked towards the tent, sending an unsure smile to Sam as she reached for the tent flap.

"It'll be okay, Devon," he said. "Get some sleep."

She laid down on her sleeping bag, sure it was an exercise in futility, but the next thing she knew, daylight was filtering through and brightening the interior of the tent. She heard soft, even breathing close by, and raised her head to see Sam sacked out not too far away. She got up quietly, grabbing her sweatshirt as she left the tent, then putting it on against the morning chill. Dean was just lifting a coffee pot from the grate over the fire, and he smiled in greeting. "Want some coffee?" he asked softly, and she mouthed 'yes' back. Right that moment, coffee sounded better than it ever had before.

She took the cup from him gratefully, breathing deeply of the wonderful aroma before taking a sip. "Thanks. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"I got a couple of hours. You didn't hear me come in, you were dead to the world. I covered you up."

She smiled a little shyly. "Thanks." She sipped at her coffee, then looked up at him again. "So, what's the plan for today?"

"We'll get Sam up soon, then we head out to where we were yesterday, where that thing went right by us. See if we can pick up the trail from there. There's an old mine not too far from there, Sam found it on Bobby's map, and we're betting that's where the lair is." Devon had a strange look on her face and Dean's brow furrowed a little in concern. "Devon, are you okay?"

She nodded, a smile barely forming on her lips. "Yeah. I'm okay. This is all still a little surreal, that's all." She held her cup out to Dean, who took it, confused. "And now for my first embarrassment of the day-can you hold my coffee so I can go behind that bush for a minute?"

Dean chuckled a little as he answered, "Sure," and she grabbed the toilet paper from her bag and headed to her destination, grateful that Sam had thought to put a "bathroom" within their circle. When she returned, Sam was just coming out of the tent, stretching his arms above his head, which made him look even taller.

"Sam, thanks for making sure I had a little privacy in our 'safe circle'," she said. "All the convenience of home, almost."

"No problem," he answered, smiling and yawning as his brother handed him a cup of steaming coffee. Devon took hers back and they sat together, chewing on some breakfast bars Sam had stashed in his backpack. They looked over the terrain on the map one last time before taking off for the area Dean had spoken about earlier. He shouldered the backpack loaded with a blow torch and several flare guns, since fire was the only thing that could destroy this monster. With any luck, they would find it, kill it and hopefully save a few people in the bargain.  
They followed a pretty clear trail for about half an hour, then all traces of the creature disappeared. They stood, looking around with frustration, unclear about exactly where they should go next. "That mine is due north, Dean, I say we keep going north and check it out." Sam said, looking at the GPS and then tucking it back into his pocket. Dean nodded in agreement, and they headed off in that direction.

It was almost an hour later when they stopped for a breather, Sam pulling the GPS out again to check their coordinates. "It has to be close. Let me see that map again, Dean." Dean lowered the backpack and unzipped the pocket holding Bobby's map, and they bent their heads over it as Devon pulled out her water and took a long pull from the bottle. "See, that's it, right there. We're almost on top of it, the entrance has to be cl..." His words were interrupted by Devon's blood-curdling scream; by the time the two men spun around in reaction, she was gone, her water bottle lying on the ground, the contents spilling out into the dirt.

"Devon!" Dean yelled, knowing it would do no good. He kicked her water bottle, sending it flying into a nearby tree as he cursed loudly. "Damn it! That thing is quiet, and fast. We've gotta find her, Sam, let's move." He grabbed the backpack, shouldering it quickly, and they headed further north, both faces drawn with grim purpose. They scanned continuously for the mine entrance, and after a few minutes of hiking, Sam spotted it off to their right.

"Dean!" Sam pointed, and they rushed towards the partly boarded-up entrance. One side had been broken down, and they looked at each other for a moment, then pulled out their flashlights and stepped into the blackness. "I don't smell anything, do you?" Sam asked, whispering, and Dean shook his head.

"No, but it might be deeper. We have to keep looking, Sam. Here, take one of these, in case we run into the son of a bitch." Dean dropped the backpack to the mine floor and opened it, handing Sam a flare gun, which he stuck into his jacket pocket. Dean did the same, then shouldered the pack once more as they headed farther into the tunnel.

After searching for almost an hour, they trudged back towards the mine entrance. Dean dropped the pack, pulling out the map and shining the light on it as Sam crowded close. "There's gotta be something else close by, Sammy." They both searched the area on the map, frustrated.

"The only thing I see is here," Sam said, pointing to a spot about a mile from where they were standing. "There's a cluster of small caves. That's got to be it, Dean."

"Well, then, let's shag ass, before that thing gets hungry again." He roughly shoved the map back into the backpack, and Sam put a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean. We'll find her. We'll find all of them." Dean nodded, zipping the pack shut and pulling the straps once again over his shoulders, then taking long strides back out into the trees. Sam pulled out the GPS to get their bearings, and they took off at a fast pace, heading north to the cave site.

* * *

Devon woke slowly, her head pounding, a low moan escaping her lips. The first thing she noticed was the smell, which hit her like a wave, causing her to gag and choke. The smell of rotten meat, and feces, and stagnant water was thick, and the darkness was absolute. She strained her eyes, but could see nothing, and the silence was almost as suffocating as the dark. She tried to move, then cried out as a sharp, stabbing pain in her left shoulder almost caused her to lose consciousness. Her hands were tied behind her back, and she was leaning up against what felt like a huge rock. She could feel the stickiness of blood partly dried on her face, and something, either sweat or blood, was trickling down her back between her shoulder blades.

She tried to work at the rope that bound her hands, but the pain in her shoulder was excruciating, and she gave up after a couple of minutes of agonizing effort that gained her nothing. Her ankles were bound too, she discovered, and she laid her head back against the cold stone, forcing herself to stay calm. Damn, that thing was fast, and strong; it had grabbed her and pulled her up that tree before she had time to react, and her scream did her no good. The creature had clubbed her on the back of the head and silenced her in short order, and she had no idea how long she'd been unconscious.

"Help me. Please, somebody..." A voice, barely a whisper came out of the dark towards her.

"Who are you?" she whispered back, praying that the noise wouldn't bring that ugly thing back to silence them.

"Marcus. Marcus Dunne. I was camping, and this...this thing grabbed me."

"Well, I'm Devon. I was looking for you when it grabbed me."

"Oh God, oh God..." The man started to cry, and Devon hushed him gently.

"Marcus. I was with two men, they're still out there looking, and they will find us. Do you hear me?"

"How do you know?" Marcus asked, fear in his voice. "They have no idea where we are, and..."

"I know, because that's what they do. Believe me, Marcus. They'll be here. We just have to hang in there a little longer. Are you hurt?"

"Not seriously, I don't think. You?"

"I think my shoulder might be dislocated, or else something's broken, I'm not sure." She cleared her throat, fighting a wave of nausea at the pain in her shoulder and the smells surrounding her. "Marcus, is there anyone else here?"

"I don't know. I was unconscious when it brought me here. I woke up, in the dark. And the smell, what is that smell?"

"I'm pretty sure you don't want to know, Marcus. Has it been back?"

"Just when it brought you in. And a little while before that, when it came in to...eat someone." Devon heard him start to cry again, and a wave of helplessness washed over her. She let her head rest back on the stone again.

"Try to stay calm, okay. I promise you, my friends are coming."

"Well, I hope they hurry, before that freak decides it wants a midnight snack."

Devon took a deep breath to calm her nausea, then tried scooting forward using her feet. With no idea what was in front of her, it was a scary thought, but Marcus sounded near. If she could get to him, maybe they could loosen each others' bonds and get themselves free. "Marcus? Talk to me, I'm trying to move closer to you."

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I think maybe we can get back-to-back and work on each other's ropes."

"I'll try anything. Keep coming, I can hear you moving, you're getting close."

Devon kept moving, pulling herself forward with her feet, seemingly an inch at a time, until her foot bumped into something. "Marcus? Is that you?"

"No. I'm over here. I think to your left. Just listen to my voice, can you pinpoint me now?"

"Yeah." She moved her legs to her left, aiming for Marcus' voice. "Okay, here goes."

After three or four more little scoots, she felt her foot run into something solid once again. "That's my leg, Devon."

Devon felt tears sting her eyes at the contact with another human being. "Thank God. I have no idea what I bumped over there, but maybe I don't want to know."

"I hear you. Let me turn around, and you can turn, too, and we can take a shot at this. Good idea, by the way."

"I just hope we can make it work, before it comes back." Devon could hear Marcus moving in the dark behind her, and as she turned herself carefully, making sure not to lean on her hands and cause more pain in her shoulder, she felt a hand. "Please tell me that's you," she whispered, half afraid he'd say no.

"Yes, it's me! It's me, Devon." She could hear the emotion in the man's voice, and felt a couple of tears trickle slowly down her face as well.

"Hey-nice to meet you, Marcus. Listen, my shoulder's messed up, so I can't promise you I can get your ropes, but I'll try." She felt his fingers on the ropes binding her wrists, feeling for a knot to work on, when a better idea occurred to her. "Hey, Marcus? Change of plans. There's a pocket knife in my pocket, right front. I'll turn, you try to get your hand in and reach it, okay?"

"Sounds good." He waited for Devon's signal that she was in position, and she felt his hands awkwardly reaching, fumbling on her leg and feeling for her pocket. "Sorry," he mumbled quietly, and Devon laughed softly.

"Don't worry about getting fresh, Marcus, just do what you have to. I won't hold it against you." Devon did her best to get into a position that made it possible for him to wiggle his fingers into her pocket. Finally, after a few moments of futile attempts, Devon stopped him. "Marcus, wait a minute. I'm going to lay down on my right side, then you can reach over and get into the pocket easier-okay?"

"Okay."

Devon blew out a couple of breaths, readying herself for what could be a painful process, then lowered herself to the right, scooting herself around a little until she could feel Marcus' hands touch her left hip. She was breathing hard with the effort, and from fighting the waves of pain that crashed over her with every movement. She leaned back as far as she could, forcing herself to stay focused on the task at hand. "Okay, Marcus, try it now. Just jam your hand in there, it'll be all right." She held her breath as she felt his hands, moving their way to the opening of her pocket. He wiggled his fingers inside the opening, then shoved his hand in, and Devon ground her teeth together to keep from crying out as the movement jolted her body, sending pain screaming through her shoulder once again.

"I can feel it!" Devon held herself as still as possible as Marcus' fingers wiggled their way around in her pocket, and finally he managed to get the knife between two fingers and pulled it slowly out. "I've got it, Devon. Just let me get a grip on it, then I can open the blade." She could hear his breathing as he struggled to get the blade of the knife open with his bound hands. Finally, he blew out a relieved breath. "Okay, can you get closer? I'll cut your hands loose, then you can get mine."

Devon clenched her teeth one more time and scooted down a little farther. She could feel Marcus' fingers on her hands, finding the rope and feeling his way around, trying to get a good angle for the knife. He slipped it, sharp side out, under her bonds and began to saw carefully. The knife was new and the blade was sharp, and in a few short seconds Devon felt the rope give. She pushed herself upright with her good hand, turning towards Marcus. "Okay, give me the knife and I'll cut you loose." She felt for the blade carefully, and Marcus held his hands steady as she sawed her way through his ropes. Then she reached down with her good hand, cutting her feet free. "Marcus, here's the knife, get your feet free and let's move." She pushed herself upward, feeling a little dizzy from the blow the creature had delivered to her head, and from the injury to her shoulder. "I don't suppose you have a lighter?"

"Yeah, I do," Marcus answered. A flare of light made Devon flinch after the total inky blackness they had been in, but after a couple of seconds her eyes adjusted. She heard Marcus begin breathing hard, and spoke quickly.

"Marcus-listen to me. Just look where you have to, okay? Don't look around. Just hold the light so we can see where to walk, and focus on that." She could hear his panicked breathing, and spoke firmly. "Marcus! We have to get out of here now. You can do this. You can."

She glanced back at him and saw him nod in answer, forcing himself to calm down a little as they moved forward, stepping around things they didn't want to look at closely. The cave was small, and Devon had to force herself through a couple of places, almost crying with the pain in her shoulder, but she knew the alternative would be much worse. They finally reached a long, narrow passage, free from obstacles, and they tried to move a little faster. Devon fought panic in the pit of her stomach at the thought that the creature would come back before they made it out of the cave. The narrow tunnel led into a larger room, and outdoor light was now filtering in, so they were close to the entrance. The thought of freedom spurred them on even faster, and they stepped out into the trees.

* * *

Dean picked up a piece of branch laying in his path and flung it with all his strength, venting his frustration on the dead wood. It crashed loudly into a nearby tree, and Sam stopped beside him, breathing hard. They had both been pushing themselves to the limit, and they had already been into four different caves, finding no trace of the creature or any of its victims. They were marking each cave they had entered with red paint, making sure they didn't waste time where they had already been, but there were at least a dozen small caves in the area. Dean hung his head for a moment, forcing himself back to calm, and then looked up resolutely. "All right. Let's keep moving."

They had just found yet another entrance and were preparing to explore it when they heard quiet voices. "Did you hear that?" Sam asked in a hushed voice, and Dean nodded silently, listening for a moment, then gesturing to his right. Sam nodded and followed quickly behind as they moved, as quietly as possible, towards the sound. Then a bone-chilling scream ripped through the peaceful forest, and the brothers broke into a dead run.


	14. Chapter 14

"Devon!" Sam and Dean were both shouting her name as they ran, dodging branches and crashing through the brush until they reached a small clearing. At the far side of the cave entrance, Devon cowered, gripping the arm of a man who stood partly in front of her, shielding her from the ugly beast towering over them.

Dean pulled the flare gun from his pocket, aiming at the creature's back. But at that moment, the wendigo grabbed the man, lifting him high into the air. Devon screamed, "Marcus!," and he struggled violently, attempting to make the creature loosen its grip. But instead, before Dean could fire off a shot, the monster grabbed Marcus' head in its huge, long-fingered hand and snapped his neck, tossing him to the side and moving towards Devon, who was screaming "No, Marcus! No!"

Sam yelled "Hey!" and the beast turned to look his direction as Dean fired the flare gun. Sam fired his a split second later, and both flares struck home, setting the wendigo alight as he took another step towards Devon. With a wave of its long arm, it sent her tumbling, and then it let out a howl as it was incinerated to ash.

Devon was scrambling towards Marcus, as well as she could with her left arm held tight against her side. She was sobbing as she reached his body, putting a hand to his face. Sam and Dean both rushed to her side, and Dean knelt next to her, feeling Marcus' neck for a pulse even though he knew it was futile. He put an arm around her, but she gasped and jerked away as he touched her left shoulder. "Damn it!" he said under his breath, then moved to put his arm around her waist instead. She moved her hand to Marcus' eyes, closing them as she sobbed, inconsolable.

"Devon?" Sam spoke gently, but she didn't answer, completely absorbed in her grief, and he looked over at Dean, concern in his eyes. "Dean, I'm gonna take a light in there, make sure there aren't any more survivors, okay?" Dean nodded, and took Devon's hand as she removed it from Marcus' face, still sobbing. She finally sagged against Dean, exhausted, still crying quietly as he held her carefully, waiting for Sam to return from the cave.

Dean looked up as Sam ducked out of the cave, meeting Dean's eyes and shaking his head once, his face pale. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, his teeth clenched, impotent anger rushing through him. Then he took a breath, standing and helping Devon carefully to her feet.

"Sam, we have to get her to a hospital."

"No! We can't leave him here!" Devon protested, pulling away from him. "I won't leave him!"

"Devon," Sam said quietly, "we'll tell the rangers he's here. The station is just a little farther, they'll take care of him and contact his family. We have to go, Devon." She was crying again, and as Dean urged her gently forward, her knees buckled and he caught her, lowering her to her knees.

"Sammy, go to the station, send help. She can't make it. I'll stay with her." Sam nodded, then set off walking, heading to the ranger station they had seen on the map about half a mile away.

Dean grabbed the backpack from where he had dropped it earlier, rummaging through and pulling out a bottle of water. He brought it to Devon, twisting off the lid and sitting down beside her on the ground. "Here, Devon. You need some water." She took the bottle from him and drank, expressionless and quiet, her eyes never leaving Marcus. "Let me see that cut on your head," Dean muttered, lifting her hair; there was a huge crooked gash almost at the base of her skull, still seeping blood. "That's gonna need stitches," he mumbled to himself, moving around so he could look into her face. She had several scrapes and bruises on any skin that was exposed, and another small cut on her forehead. She was covered in dried blood and dirt, although her tears had washed some of it away. He grabbed a t-shirt from the pack, wetting it with water from the bottle, and gently washed some of the muck from her face as she sat staring straight ahead, her eyes dead.

* * *

Sam sat at one side of Devon's hospital bed, staring unseeing at the morning news show on the television mounted on the wall. The sound was barely on, and he didn't really care. He glanced over at Dean, on the other side of the bed, head slumped forward on his chest, asleep in the chair. Devon was asleep, her shoulder wrapped and her arm strapped to her body, a huge ice pack in place. An IV dripped fluids and antibiotics into her system, and the painkillers had knocked her out completely. Her face and arms were scraped and bruised from being dragged through the trees by the wendigo, as were her legs, although he couldn't see them at the moment.

Dean woke and lifted his head, raising a hand to his shoulder and cranking his head back and forth to loosen his stiff neck. "What time is it?" he asked quietly.

"About 7:30. You want some coffee?" Sam asked, standing and stretching.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, thanks." He looked towards the bed, reaching to touch Devon's hand. "Has she opened her eyes yet?"

Sam shook his head as he turned to leave the room. "I'll be right back."

Dean sat there watching Devon sleep, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. When Sam showed up in the doorway with the coffee, he got up and they strolled a little ways down the hall. Dean was wearing his worried and guilty face, one Sam had seen many times before, and he spoke quietly to his brother. "Dean. She'll be okay. Doc said she'll be fine."

"Yeah, her shoulder will be fine. She was just wrecked out there, Sam. I don't know how she's gonna be when she wakes up."

"I know." Sam sipped at his coffee, and they walked back to the room together.

They sat there in her room for another hour or so before she stirred. Her eyes drifted open, and she moaned a little as she moved. Dean reached for her hand, and she turned her head slowly towards him. "Dean," she muttered, then squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "Sam?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he answered, standing and coming near the bed. "How are you, Devon?"

"Don't know. Wow, I'm thirsty."

"I'll get the nurse."

She turned her head towards Dean again and he smiled gently, squeezing her hand. "Hey, Devon."

"Where's Sam?"

Dean's smile widened a little. "He went to get the nurse, remember?"

"My shoulder hurts."

"I know. That wendigo did a number on you. But at least you're still here."

Devon turned her face away, her eyes closed again. "It killed Marcus." A tear squeezed out from under her lashes, and he took her hand between both of his.

"I know. But at least you made it. First rule of hunting, Devon. Don't die."

The nurse came in then, and Dean moved away from the bed. She asked them to step out of the room for a moment, and they walked down the hall to the waiting room. Sam dialed Bobby's number and filled him in as Dean stood staring out the window. "Yeah, we're in Roseau. As soon as they release her, we're coming home. Yeah, she'll need some recovery time, she'll be out of it for a little while."

"Maybe forever," Dean thought to himself, staring down at the traffic below. Maybe this would get her out of it before she actually did get killed. Maybe this was a good thing.

* * *

A couple of days later the Impala pulled into the driveway at Devon's house. Dean got out as Devon sat up and turned, allowing him to open the door and help her out. He and Sam accompanied her into the house, and Dean got her seated on the couch while Sam made the rounds of her house, mostly out of habit, making sure everything was safe and secure there. He stood waiting for his brother, who had perched on the edge of the coffee table and was looking at Devon.

"I don't think you should be alone tonight," he said quietly. "I can stay here on the couch, just in case you have problems. You just got out of the hospital."

"I can call my mom tomorrow, Dean. I'll be fine." She sounded tired and less than sure of her words, and she refused to meet his eyes.

Dean's lips were pressed together tightly, his brow furrowed, and he took a deep breath before speaking, huffing it out almost angrily. "Sam, take Baby and go home. I'm staying."

Devon looked up, surprised. "No, you're not. I'm fine."

Dean turned and tossed the keys to Sam. "I'll call you tomorrow, Sammy."

Sam nodded. "Goodnight, Devon. Feel better." He turned and walked out the door as Devon glared at Dean.

"Who says I want you to stay? I told you, I'm fine. I don't need a babysitter."

"Good. Then I'll get some sleep, won't I? You can call your mom tomorrow if you want, and I'll leave. But tonight I'm staying." He stared into her hazel eyes, unwavering, until she dropped her gaze. "I don't mean to tell you what to do, but it's been a long drive. You should probably be in bed."

Devon badly wanted to argue with him, just on principle, but she had to admit he was right. She was exhausted, and in pain, and she just wanted to lie down. "Yeah. I suppose I should. Do you know where my pain pills are?" Dean fished them out of her backpack and handed them to her.

"I'll get you some water," he muttered, going to the kitchen and opening cupboard doors until he found a glass. He opened the fridge, hoping like hell she had some beer. He smiled, a little happier, and grabbed a cold one to carry back to the living room with her water. "I helped myself, hope you don't mind," he said, handing the glass to her.

"Of course not. Thanks," she said quietly as she took the water from him, then swallowed her pill. "Okay, I'm going to bed."

"If you need something, just yell-okay?" He looked at her, his green eyes sincere, and she felt tears sting her eyes again.

"Okay. Thanks." She turned and walked into her room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Dean was on his second beer when Devon walked out of her bedroom. He looked up to see her standing there, her face wet with tears. "Come here," he said gently, patting the couch beside him. She sat down next to him and he put his arm around her, careful of her freshly repaired shoulder. He held her silently, reaching for the remote and turning the television on, flipping through channels until he found an old western. He put his feet up on the coffee table and settled back with Devon's head cradled on his shoulder.

* * *

Devon stirred, aware only of being warm and surprisingly comfortable. She opened her eyes, finding herself in her living room, and as she moved her head, she realized it was resting in Dean's lap. She moved, rolling to her back, and looked up into his green eyes, which were heavy-lidded and not quite awake. "Hey," he said, his voice still raspy from sleeping, a faint, crooked smile on his lips.

"Hey," she answered, attempting to move, but she was trapped by his hand, which was tangled in her hair.

"Sorry." He pulled his fingers gently free, then helped her sit up next to him. "You finally got some sleep."

"Yeah, I guess." She leaned up, still groggy, rubbing the back of her neck. "Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"No complaints here." She felt his hand on her shoulder as he leaned up next to her. "You okay?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think so."

"I'll make some coffee." He got up and headed for the kitchen, and Devon sighed. She sat back on the couch, wincing a little as she bumped her shoulder, but honestly, it was feeling quite a bit better. Her entire body felt battered and bruised, but considering what she'd been through... A wave of sadness washed over her as she thought of Marcus lying there, his eyes staring lifelessly at the sky. They had almost made it. Almost.

Before long, Dean came in carrying two steaming mugs of coffee, and Devon took hers gratefully. "Thanks," she murmured, sipping carefully at the hot liquid.

"Yeah. No problem." He sat, leaning forward with his arms on his knees, his mug in his hands. He turned his head to look at her as she spoke softly.

"How do you do this, Dean?" She looked into his eyes, tears sparkling in hers.

Dean looked away, wishing he could ease her pain-but he knew he couldn't. "I just do. I walk away and I try not to think about it. I drink, and I fight, and I screw around with women I'll probably never see again. And every once in a while, I have a meltdown."

Devon set her coffee on the table and stood up, walking to the big bay window overlooking her yard, staring out and seeing nothing through the blur of the tears in her eyes. "How could you shoot my dad, and just walk away and try not to think about it?"

Dean's eyes narrowed a little from the sting of her remark, even though he knew that wasn't her intent. "You think it didn't tear me up to put that bullet into him?" Anger was sparking within him, and he fought to keep it in hand.

"Did it? Do you feel anything any more? Because if you do, how do you keep doing this?" Her question ended in a quiet sob, and Dean stopped, closing his eyes for a moment before he walked to her, putting his arms around her from behind and resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Maybe you're just not cut out for this life, Devon," he said softly.

She pulled away from him. "Well, this should make your day, then," she said quietly. "I'm done. I can't be as callous and unfeeling about people's lives as you are. Maybe you should go."

He stood behind her, his jaw working, forcing his temper down again before he let himself answer. "Fine." He pulled out his phone and walked to the kitchen, dialing Sam and telling him to come to Brandon and pick him up at a local restaurant a few blocks away. He grabbed his jacket off of the chair he had left it on and turned to look at her one more time as she continued staring out the window. "Somebody will drop your car off later, Devon. Bye." Then he headed out the door, pulling it closed quietly after him.

Devon turned, almost calling out after him, but she stopped herself, staying there until he was gone. Then she sank to her knees right where she stood, sobbing and broken.

She gave herself a couple of days before she called anyone. She told her friends, her coworkers and her mother that she had lost a dear friend to a bear attack in Minnesota. She went back to work again, promising herself that this time, it would work. And she determinedly squashed her feelings of guilt about the things she had said to Dean. In fact, she tried desperately not to think of Sam, or Dean, or Bobby, or anything to do with that part of her life she wanted only to forget. Then, one night as she sat with a glass of whiskey, numbing herself so she could sleep that night, a news story caught her eye. She sat her glass down, her eyes widening as she stared at the screen.

Dean was on camera, holding a rifle, shouting at the cops to stay back as he shoved an older man in a guard uniform towards the paramedics. "I said get back, now!" Dean shouted, looking, eyes wide, at the camera for a moment before going back into the bank and securing the doors. Devon stood up, staring at the television, her mouth open in shock.


	15. Chapter 15

"Bobby? This is Devon. What's going on? I just saw Dean on TV!"

"Devon, hold on." Devon waited impatiently, listening as Bobby talked on another line. "Sorry, Devon. This is a mess. The boys are in that bank, hunting something, I'm sure, I can't make contact with them. My guess is a shifter, from the sound of the things they were checking out there in Milwaukee. Problem is, now the FBI is involved, from what I saw on TV. And the agent in charge is Henriksen, the one that's been after Dean for a while now. It's not good."

"Is there anything we can do?" Devon was surprised at how upset she was over their dilemma. She had been determined not to think about the Winchesters, or hunting, or anything supernatural-and especially not Dean. It was fine during the day, when she could keep busy, and occupy her mind with work, or friends, or even the drama of dealing with her mother. But at night, laying in bed, memories came unbidden to haunt her. And in her dreams...that was something else entirely. The dreams she'd been having about Dean were so vivid that she wondered, the first time, if he had broken into her house while she slept and crawled into bed with her. His kiss, his touch, the way he held her, his breath on her neck or the whispers in her ear, were enough to wake her, trembling with frustrated need.

"Devon? Are you still there?"

"What? Bobby, I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I said, how are you doing?"

"Oh. I'm okay, Bobby. Just been trying to keep my mind off hunting and...stuff. It's not working very well."

"I coulda told you that. Seems like, once you get a taste of it, it's in your blood. And your daddy was in it, so you come by it honest." He cleared his throat a little before continuing. "Look, Devon, I know losing that man in Minnesota was hard. But you did everything you could to save him. In fact, you did more than I thought you were capable of, I'll be honest. Dean was right, you have good instincts. But you've gotta realize, people are gonna die. We can't save everybody. And you guys killed that bastard before it got it's claws on anyone else. If you hadn't stopped it, who knows how many more people it would have eaten."

Devon was quiet for a long moment before answering. "I know. Thank you, Bobby. It was just so...so wrong, what happened to him. Without his help, I might not have made it. And it sucks."

"Yeah. It does. But you did everything humanly possible to save him. It was just his time. And at least his family had a body to mourn over, to bury. So stop blaming yourself, and come back to work."

She was quiet again for a while, but Bobby waited patiently at the other end. "I'll think about it, Bobby. I promise. In the meantime, is there anything we can do for Sam and Dean?"

"Right now, no. We're gonna have to hope they can kill whatever they're hunting, and get away without being nailed by that FBI dick. I'll let you know if I hear anything, and you do the same, okay?"

"Okay, Bobby." She took a breath, then softly said, "And Bobby? Thanks."

* * *

It was a little over three weeks later that Devon's cell phone rang as she was working on the books at the office. She grabbed it from her purse and answered absently, then glanced around surreptitiously when she heard the voice on the other end. "Devon? This is Bobby. We could use your help down here."

His voice sounded strained, and she frowned with concern. "Bobby? Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, I think. Dean's pretty banged up, and Sam's just..." His voice faded away as if he couldn't find the words. "Well? Can you come?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can, Bobby." They ended the call, then she grabbed her things and stepped into her boss's office. "Dan? I have to leave. Family emergency."

"You've been gone a lot these past few months, Devon. I tried to be patient after your dad's death, but I can't keep putting up with your absences."

"I'm sorry, Dan. But I really have to go."

The older man, grey and balding, reared back in his chair. "You need to decide if you want this job, Devon. If you don't, I need to advertise for a replacement."

She stared stoically back at him. "So what you're saying is, if I leave, I'm fired?"

"I don't want to, but that is what I'm saying. So what's your decision?"

Devon's gaze didn't waver as she looked back at the man who'd been her boss and her friend for the last several years. "Then do what you have to do, Dan. I have to leave." She turned and walked out of his office, not sure if she was upset or relieved. She shut down her computer, grabbed her purse from her desk, and headed out the door.

After driving home to change into jeans and a t-shirt, she turned south. She pulled into Singer Salvage about a half an hour later, pocketing her keys and walking quickly to Bobby's door. She knocked, then entered without waiting for someone to answer, not sure what she was walking into.

"What the hell happened in here?" she exclaimed, shocked at the destruction in the living room. The ceiling was cracked and pieces of it littered the floor, and furniture had been seemingly tossed about randomly. Bobby sat in his desk chair, holding an ice pack to his head. Sam and Dean were slumped on the couch, one at each end. Sam looked upset, but Devon couldn't see any serious injuries. Dean's face, however, was a mess, and there was blood soaking the front of his shirt and jacket. "Are you guys okay?" Dean didn't look happy to see her, and Sam didn't even attempt a smile, just glanced at her and looked away.

"Sam was possessed," Bobby said bluntly, and Devon looked at him in shock.

"Possessed?"

"Yeah. He's okay now, but he went a little haywire for a while."

Devon stood straight, her hands on her hips. "I can see that."

"Dean's been shot, but the bullet's out. Jo fixed him up, but then Sam-well, the demon-messed with him pretty good. Might need looked at."

Dean glared at Bobby as Devon knelt on one knee in front of him. "Can we take that jacket off, Dean, so I can have a look?" she asked softly. Dean turned his angry gaze to her for a second, then looked away again.

"I'm fine. What is she doing here, Bobby? She doesn't want anything to do with us, especially with me. I'm the cold-blooded killer that shot her dad, remember?"

Devon rose to her feet and walked to Sam's side of the couch, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. "Sam?" He held his right arm out, and Devon winced at the sight of the burn there, seemingly on top of another partly healed burn. It looked ugly and blistered, and she stood again. "Bobby, where are the first aid supplies?"

"Bathroom, cabinet under the sink." She nodded and headed that way, collecting what she needed and returning to the room. All she could really do for Sam was clean the burn, put on some burn cream and wrap his arm, and she did that quickly. He gave her a sad excuse for a smile as thanks, and she stood, moving to Bobby.

"What about you?" She looked down at him as he shrugged his shoulders, wincing a little as he did so.

"I just have a bump on the head, and some aches and pains from getting thrown around by that thing. Dean's the one that needs attention."

"I said I'm fine," Dean snapped, a little louder than necessary, and Devon turned to face his resentful face again.

"Can you two go into the kitchen? I need a moment," Devon asked quietly, looking steadily into Dean's glare. The other two men got up slowly and left the room, and Devon sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of Dean, her arms folded. "I owe you an apology, Dean," she said, staring back at him, not giving an inch. "I'm sorry about the things I said to you a few weeks ago. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't true. I know it tore you apart to have to shoot Dad. I know you care when you lose people. I was just so...so devastated about what happened to Marcus. I wouldn't have gotten out of there if it wasn't for him. I just felt...feel...so guilty." There were tears in her eyes, and she moved to stand, but Dean's hand on her knee stopped her. She looked back into his eyes, his gaze softened now, and found herself unable to look away. It seemed like an eternity before he spoke.

"Wanna have a look at my shoulder? It hurts like hell."

She blinked hard as she nodded, then stood to help him take off his jacket, not an easy task for him. He was in a lot of pain, and sat back, a little pale, on the couch as Devon tossed his jacket aside. She took scissors and finished cutting the shoulder of his shirt apart. "So, what happened, Dean?" she asked as she carefully removed the bandage from the wound. Some of the gauze had almost been shoved into the torn flesh, and she watched Dean's face as he closed his eyes and bit his lip, sucking in a breath. Devon stood up, walking to the desk and grabbing Bobby's whiskey, then came back and handed the bottle to Dean, who took it gratefully.

"Thanks." He took a large swig out of the bottle, then looked up at her. "Long story, I'll fill you in later."

Devon nodded, continuing with her bloody task, and after cleaning the wound, she bandaged it securely. "Do you have another shirt?" she asked, a little pale herself after playing nurse, a job she was not accustomed to.

"My bag's over there," he said, nodding that direction with his head, then laying back against the couch. She dug through the duffle until she found a clean t-shirt, then took the scissors to the bloodied one he was still wearing. She cut up the side of the shirt and helped him pull it off of his other arm, shaking her head.

"Just wait," she muttered, leaving the room. When she returned, she was carrying a basin of warm water, a towel and a cloth. Dean looked up at her, a lascivious smirk spreading across his face and a sparkle in his eyes, and Devon blushed profusely. She sat the basin down on the coffee table, hard, and threw the towel at the grinning man on the couch, turning and leaving the room. His throaty chuckle followed her into the kitchen, where she walked directly into the curious gazes of Bobby and Sam. "Nothing. Never mind," she said shortly, turning her back, her arms folded across her chest. The men exchanged glances and shrugs, and didn't say a word.

A few minutes later, Devon walked back into the living room to find Dean laying on the couch, fresh t-shirt on, his face pale. "Are you all right?" she asked grudgingly. "I would have helped you with your shirt, you know."

He smiled a little weakly. "I managed."

"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam's voice was quiet, and Devon looked up to see him in the doorway.

"It wasn't you, Sammy," Dean answered, "don't beat yourself up." Sam hung his head, guilt in his eyes, then turned and walked back into the kitchen. "Sam," Dean said, shaking his head as his brother ignored him.

Bobby came in and took his usual seat behind the desk, moaning a little as he lowered himself down. "Sure you're okay, Bobby?" Devon asked, and he nodded wearily.

"I'll live." He nodded towards the kitchen. "Maybe you should go talk to him."

Devon shot him a sad little smile and headed back to the kitchen, where Sam sat sideways at the table, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms folded across his chest. "Sam? Are you okay?" she asked, sitting down across the table from him.

Sam shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "I'm fine."

"It's not your fault, you know," Devon said softly, and he hung his head before looking over at her, his eyes full of self-recrimination and doubt.

"Really? Why did I get possessed? Why did Meg come for me? Because there's something wrong in me, Devon. There's something going on with me that made her come after me, because she knew I was an easy mark, or that I wasn't strong enough to fight her off, or something."

"Bobby said demons can possess anyone, Sam. She had a grudge against you, and against Dean. That's all."

"She didn't possess Dean, she possessed me." He turned towards Devon, his arms on the table, anger and torment in his eyes. "I killed a man, Devon. I almost killed Jo. I tried to kill my brother."

"Sam. Stop." She reached across the table and took hold of his hand. "You had no control over what that demon did. It wasn't you that did those things. You have to stop thinking like that. And that thing was powerful. You didn't stand a chance, Sam." He finally looked up at her for a moment, and she smiled gently at him. "Go talk to your brother, Sam. Please." She squeezed his hand, then got up from the table and walked to the sink for a glass of water. When she turned around, Sam was walking slowly into the next room, and she smiled to herself, following him as far as the doorway. "Hey, guys, I'm taking off. Call me if you need me, I guess."

Dean was sitting up, grimacing slightly as he moved his injured shoulder. "Where are you going?"

"Home, Dean. I'm going home."

"Why? Stay. Have a beer."

Devon smiled. "I need to go home, I have some things to figure out. Like how I'm going to pay my bills. I lost my job today."

Dean stared at her for a moment before speaking. "Because of us?"

Devon shook her head. "No. Because of me. I've been taking too much time off, and Dan just couldn't put up with it any more. Can't say I blame him. My heart hasn't been in it ever since Dad... Well, you know." She glanced down at the floor, and when she looked up, Dean was standing.

"I'll walk you out," he said, wincing as he moved, and Devon shook her head again.

"Not necessary, Dean. I think I can find my way to the car." By the time the words were out of her mouth, he had a hand on her arm.

"Never can be too careful," he said, a little smirk on his face. Devon gave up arguing, and waved a hand at Bobby and Sam.

Outside, the air was a little chilly, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms as they walked to her car. Dean was limping a little, and she sent a reproachful look his way. "I told you I didn't need an escort, Dean. You're hurt. You should be resting, and you should be inside talking to your brother. He feels like it's his fault he got possessed. Like there's something wrong with him."

"I'll talk to him after you leave." She shot another look his way, and he bristled a little. "I will! Promise."

They arrived at her car, and she reached into her pocket for the keys. "Well, goodnight, Dean. Take care of yourself." As she reached for the door, she felt his hand on her shoulder and turned to face him, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. His hand slid down her arm and gripped her gently, pulling her close to him as his lips captured hers in a soft, sweet kiss. He raised his head just a little, the look in his eyes making her pulse pound. She stepped back, but found herself trapped against the side of the car as he took a step forward. "Dean, I have to go," she said breathlessly as his hand caressed her arm.

"What are you afraid of, Devon?" he asked quietly.

"You." She stared back into his eyes, and realized she wasn't lying. She was terrified.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to be afraid of me." He was still running his fingers up and down her arm, and her legs were feeling a little weak.

"Yes. I do. I'm afraid of what will happen to me if I..."

"I would never hurt you, Devon."

"Not physically."

He nodded slightly, chewing on the inside of his lip. "You don't trust me at all, do you?"

Devon closed her eyes for a beat, trying to compose herself. He was standing so close she could feel the heat from his body, even though he wasn't actually touching her, and the combination of that and looking into his eyes was too much to handle at the moment. "It's not that, Dean. Right now I just..." She stopped, unable to find the words, looking down at the ground.

He leaned in, putting his lips next to her ear as he spoke softly, sending a shiver through her. "Well, let me know if you change your mind." Then he pressed a kiss to her temple before moving away, and she watched him walk back towards the house. She stood by her car, trembling, for a moment before getting in and starting the engine, laying her head back on the seat and blowing out a tense breath before backing up and heading out the driveway.


	16. Chapter 16

Devon went to Sioux Falls a couple of times over the next few days to help Bobby out with research. Sam and Dean had gone to Ohio for a case, and they called Bobby for his help, so she once again went home, feeling a little lost, sitting and waiting for the phone to ring. It was a couple of weeks before she saw Dean again; he had called and asked her to come down and do some training for a job they were working on, but she made sure to never be alone with him.

And now, just a few days later, she followed behind Dean, running full tilt through the trees in the late afternoon shadows, trying not to trip herself up on fallen branches and tree roots. Sam was behind her, and it was silent other than the pounding of their feet on the ground, the snap of twigs and rustle of brush as they passed. They finally came out of the woods into a small pasture, and Dean came to a stop, turning to make sure they were still behind him. "Damn it! I lost him," he said, breathing heavily.

"Did you see which way he went?" Sam asked, and Dean gestured in the general direction they had been travelling, shrugging his shoulders.

"He came this way, but he could be anywhere now." He looked at Devon. "You okay?"

She nodded, trying to catch her breath. "Yeah. You're fast."

Dean flashed her a quick grin, and turned to survey the layout of the farm in front of them. "Maybe they're holed up in that old barn, but I didn't see him go in. We'll have to be careful, if the nest is there, they know we're coming."

"Vampires," Devon said, shaking her head. "I thought they were myths."

"Yeah, you thought a lot of things were myths before you met us." Dean leveled a serious look at her, his hand on the machete strapped to his thigh. "You ready for this? Remember what I told you?"

"Yeah. Swing it like I mean it."

"That's right. The only thing that'll kill these sons of bitches is beheading. So go for a home run every time." He looked at his brother next. "Sam, you watch her back." Sam nodded, and they headed across the grass towards the weathered old barn.

There was a flatbed trailer stacked with bales of hay on the south side of the building, and Dean scrambled up on it, holding out a hand to give the others a boost. The hayloft door stood open above it, and Sam reached for the ledge, pulling himself up, then laid down on his belly and extended his arm to Devon. He lifted her into the loft, then gave his brother an assist. Sam inched his way to the edge of the platform, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim light coming from a couple of lanterns down below. Devon could hear voices, one raised in anger, and the sound of someone's hand connecting with another's face. Then another shout, and the vampire they had been chasing stumbled into view. Sam turned towards Dean and Devon, holding up seven fingers. Dean's eyebrows raised a little, and he took a deep breath. He grabbed Devon's arm, pulling her back towards the door they had climbed into. "You stay here."

Her brows drew together in an angry frown. "What?" she mouthed at him, knowing she had to keep quiet, but wanting to yell it at the top of her lungs. "Why?"

Dean's face was tense and angry as his grip on her arm tightened. "Because there are too many of them. You've never dealt with these things. They're strong, and fast, and they'll kill you before you even have time to think. Now stay here." There was angry discussion going on at the lower level, and Devon could barely hear his whispered orders, but he meant business. She glared back at him, frustrated, but finally nodded.

She watched as Dean silently approached his brother, flashing some kind of hand signals, and Sam nodded. Then he turned, descending the ladder leading to the main floor of the barn, Dean following right behind. Devon stepped to the edge, watching them as they split off, one going left and one going right.

She watched as the Winchesters swung into action, a violent dance of blood and gore, screams and angry shouts echoing through the building. Then, as Dean fought for his life with a huge, furious male, she saw a female quietly creep in from the small room off to the side. She had fangs bared and was stealthily drawing closer to Dean, who had all he could handle with the vampire he was battling. Devon crawled down the ladder halfway, then jumped to the floor, drawing the female's attention. The monster hissed at her, then charged wildly, and Devon managed to duck and spin out of her path. But the female was fast, and before she could react, the vampire had locked her arms around Devon from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. Without even thinking, Devon dropped, shifting her weight and putting the vampire off balance. Then she rolled, leaving the furious female crumpled on the ground, and rose immediately to her feet, her machete in hand. As the vampire leapt up, Devon swung the weapon with all her might, and felt blood spray her face and arms as most of the monster's head landed with a thud, rolling a short distance away, its body dropping lifeless to the floor.

She turned just in time to see Sam and Dean finish off the gigantic brute that Dean had been fighting. Devon swept the back of her hand across her mouth, wiping the blood off her face, feeling a little sick. Dean was at her side in three long strides, grabbing her shoulder tightly with his free hand. "Are you okay?"

"Ow! Yes, I was until you got here!" She pulled away from him, opening her mouth to speak again, but saw his brows draw together, his mouth tight and a frightening glare in his eyes.

"Devon! Drop!" She dropped to the floor at his command and rolled away, turning her head to see Dean take the head off of another vampire. Then he turned to her, his face dark with anger. "Damn it, Devon! I told you to stay up there!" He was pointing to the hayloft, and she clenched her teeth in anger as she rose from the floor.

"So I should have let her come after you?" she shouted, pointing at the body of the female she had killed. "She was heading right for you, and you had all you could handle with Frankenstein over there. But I should have just stayed up there and watched her have you for dinner?"

Dean grabbed her arm again, glowering at her, fire in his eyes. "Do you have any idea how close you just were to dying? He would have ripped your throat out before you had a chance to react. Or snapped your neck, I doubt if he would have cared how you died. You killed his mate. You killed one vampire, and then you just stood there watching me. You never assume they're all dead, Devon, you stay focused and keep your eyes open every second. Or you end up dead." He was yelling, and Devon angrily jerked her arm away from him a second time.

"Dean, enough," Sam said, gripping his brother's shoulder and pulling him away slightly.

"Stop screaming at me!" Devon shouted back, staring defiantly at him. "Are they all dead now, Dean? Are they?"

"Yes," Sam answered, "That was the last one."

"Good," Devon snapped, turning on her heel and stalking out the door. Dean turned to follow, but Sam stopped him, tightening his grip on his angry older brother's shoulder.

"Dean. Calm down."

"She almost bought it, Sam. She needs to know that." He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself. "She never listens, Sammy."

"She probably saved your life, Dean."

"It doesn't mean much if she dies in the process, does it?" He pulled away from his brother, heading for the door, and Sam followed, shaking his head as he left the barn. Devon was halfway across the pasture, walking back towards the trees in the direction they had left the Impala. Sam saw her flashlight beam come on as she came to the woods, and when they reached the car after cleaning up the bodies almost two hours later, she was sitting silently in the dark in the back seat.

"Don't get blood all over my car," Dean growled as he got in, and Sam smothered a smile as he heard Devon quietly suggest that Dean go screw himself.

When they pulled into the parking space at the motel, she got out of the car silently, waiting by the back of the car to put away her blade. Sam came around and opened the trunk, and they laid the machetes inside. "We'll clean and sharpen them up when we get back to Sioux Falls," he told her, closing the trunk, and they walked to the room, where Dean was already turning on lights. "Devon, go ahead and use the shower first." She looked at Sam gratefully, nodding, and grabbed her bag as she went past Dean without looking, going into the bathroom and closing the door.

She came out of the bathroom about twenty minutes later, wearing pajama pants and a tank top, her shoulder-length hair wet and tangled. She sat on the edge of one of the beds, pulled her bare feet up underneath her and folding her legs as she combed through the knots. "Sam, go ahead. I want to finish my beer." Dean was sitting at the small table, still scowling, and Devon refused to look at him. Sam rolled his eyes a little and grabbed his bag, heading for the shower.

Devon finished combing her hair and walked to the fridge, grabbing a cold beer and tossing the lid into the trash can. She took a long pull from the bottle, sighing a little as she rolled her head back and forth, trying to relieve the tension in her neck and shoulders. "Are you hurt?" Dean asked curtly, and she looked at him, her chin raised defiantly.

"I'm fine." She took another drink and walked back to her bed, pulling the bedding back and crawling between the sheets, sitting up against the headboard. She finished her beer within a few minutes, laying her head back against the wall and closing her eyes in between drinks. She was wiped out, so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open, but that beer had sounded so good. When it was gone, she set the bottle on the bedside table and slid down, shutting off the lamp and rolling over to her side, pulling the covers up and sighing as she closed her eyes.

Dean stared at Devon's form under the blankets, still angry enough to want to take her by the shoulders and shake her, tell her she had to learn to listen. But right that moment, he was fighting the urge to crawl into bed with her and kiss her until the resentment in her eyes was gone, replaced by the same hunger he was feeling. Sam came out of the bathroom just then, wearing a pair of boxers instead of his usual towel, since they were sharing their room with Devon. "It's all yours," he said, and Dean stood, grabbing his bag and heading that direction without speaking a word. Sam rolled his eyes and finished combing through his hair, then pulled the blankets down and got into bed, covering up with the sheet. "Devon, you asleep?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm-mm. Not yet," she mumbled.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay."

Sam turned on his side facing her bed. "You know Dean just doesn't want you hurt, or worse, killed. That's the only reason he's like that."

Devon didn't answer right away, but finally turned onto her side facing Sam. "It doesn't feel like that, Sam. It seems like he doesn't trust me at all. Like he doesn't think I can do the job."

"You don't have much experience yet, Devon. He's just trying to keep you safe while you learn the ropes."

Devon sighed. "Yeah, well, he's being an ass." And with that, she rolled back over, and the conversation ended.

* * *

The five-hour trip back to Sioux Falls seemed to last much longer to Sam. There was little talk, Devon and Dean were both still angry and brooding, and Sam couldn't wait to get back to Bobby's place. They finally pulled in at around noon, and he exited the car with a sigh of relief. "Thank God," he muttered under his breath, ignoring the dirty look his brother sent his direction.

Devon got out, grabbing her bag and taking it directly to her car, throwing it in the back seat. "Sam, you want to show me how to take care of my blade? Then I'll get out of everyone's hair."

"Devon, you don't have to..." The look in her eyes stopped Sam in mid-sentence. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it, I'll show you later." She nodded, turning back towards her car and getting behind the wheel.

"See you later," she said, closing the door. Dean stood by the Impala watching her silently. She looked his direction, staring back at him for a tense moment, then put the car in reverse and backed out, leaving the salvage yard without another word. Dean watched until her car was out of sight, then grabbed his belongings and headed into the house. Sam let out a frustrated sigh, then opened the trunk and took their bloody machetes from the trunk, carrying them into the shop. He cleaned and sharpened the blades alone, not wanting to subject himself to Dean's foul mood. When that task was done, he grabbed his bag and went to the house, hoping his brother had lightened up at least a little.  
As he reached for the door, Dean came bursting through it, almost running him down. "Dude! Watch it!" he said, a scowl on his face. "Where are you going in such a big hurry, anyway?"

"I need to talk to her," Dean said, and Sam grabbed him by the arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"Dean. Leave her alone."

Dean glared at him, yanking his arm from Sam's grasp. "Don't tell me what to do, Sammy." Then he stormed out to the Impala, starting the engine before the door was even closed, and sent a spray of gravel across the yard as he left.

Sam blew out a tense breath as he watched Dean leave, shaking his head. "Great." He walked into the house, calling out for Bobby, who answered from the living room. Sam walked in, speaking to the older man who sat, sipping a whiskey, behind his desk. "Did you try to talk to him?" Sam asked, and Bobby shot him a disgusted look.

"Like he was gonna listen to me. Sometimes that boy's got so much of your dad in him, I just want to beat him."

"Think I should go after him?"

"I think we should let them fight it out. They'll either kill each other, or they'll work it out. We can't do it for 'em, Sam."

* * *

Devon sat, feet up on the coffee table, staring blankly at the college football game on her television screen. She couldn't have said which teams were playing, or who was winning. She had just finished her third whiskey, and she basically had turned the set on just for background noise, to occupy her mind and keep her from thinking. Now the whiskey had taken care of that little problem for her. She felt just slightly dizzy, on the edge of drunk. When the loud knock sounded at her door, she stared a little stupidly at it for a moment before getting up to answer. She pulled the door open, then raised her eyes to see Dean standing in front of her, looking as ill-tempered as when she had left him. She moved to swing the door closed again, but he pushed his way past her and entered the room. "Get the hell out," she demanded, turning to face him, furious.

"We're gonna talk, Devon. Now." Dean stood in front of her, his arms folded across his chest, his tone and the look in his eyes leaving no room for argument.

She folded her arms too, staring back at him. "No, what you mean is you'll talk and I'll listen. Because you don't ever listen to anything I have to say anyway."

"You almost died yesterday because you didn't follow my orders."

"Orders? You're issuing orders now? What, you outrank me or something? Please!" Devon whirled around to storm away from him, but his grip on her arm stopped her, and he jerked her back around to face him as she struggled, trying to pull away. "Let go of me!" She swung her free hand with all her strength, aiming for his face, but he caught it in his other hand and pulled her roughly up against him.

"Stop, Devon. Stop fighting me." His voice had calmed, and he stared into her face, a look in his eyes that she couldn't quite read.

"Please let me go," she said softly, unexpected tears welling up in her eyes as she looked away.

"Are you ever going to forgive me for your dad, Devon? Are you ever going to stop hating me for that?" As he watched, a tear overflowed and trickled down her cheek, and she looked back up at him.

"I don't hate you," she whispered, the fight gone out of her, the struggle to be free from his grasp ended. Dean's eyes burned into hers for a moment before he lowered his lips to hers, his arms surrounding her. She reached up to slide her arms around his neck, responding to his kiss with a fire that shook him to his foundation. They were lost in each other for a few moments, and then Dean finally raised his head, looking down at her and letting his eyes linger on her kiss-swollen lips.

"This is a very bad idea," he muttered, his eyes closing for a second at the sensation of her fingers trailing through his hair.

"Maybe it is," she said breathlessly, "but I don't care any more." She tightened her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer to him as she kissed him softly on the cheek, then closer and closer to his lips, until he gave a soft moan of surrender and kissed her again, this time holding nothing back. But after a few seconds, he lifted his head and put his hands on her arms, pulling them from around his neck and taking a step back from her. She looked at him confusion and a little hurt showing clearly on her face.

"We can't do this, Devon."

"Why not?" she asked, stepping towards him, but he took another step away from her.

"You've been drinking. A little too much to completely know what you're doing."

"Who cares?"

"I care!" Dean's voice was a little louder than he intended, and he closed his eyes for a moment, then repeated himself quietly. "I care." He moved towards her again, putting one hand gently on her face and trying to ignore the fact that she was leaning into his touch, her hand on his. "When we do this, Devon, I want you completely there. I don't want you waking up in the morning with regrets, feeling like I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable. I want you to feel every touch, every kiss, every movement. And you're not making this easy, looking at me that way." He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips before stepping back and turning towards the door. "Goodnight, Devon." He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity before walking out the door, pulling it quietly shut behind him.

She dropped down onto the couch, still reeling from what had happened in the past few minutes. She turned up the volume on the television, trying to distract her mind and body, knowing that it was a waste of time. She had a feeling Dean Winchester had a much easier time forgetting his conquests than they ever did forgetting about him.


	17. Chapter 17

Devon stared at the television screen, barely absorbing what was going on in the game, for almost an hour before she decided to give up and go to bed. She stood up, sighing, and stretched, shutting off the tv. Then she jumped as a soft knock sounded on the door.  
Frowning a little, she went to the door and opened it a crack, peering around the edge. She shook her head a little, smiling, as she opened it wider and looked up at Dean's face. He looked like a little boy who was coming to tell her he'd broken a window with his baseball, hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet. "Dean? Is everything all right?" she asked, backing up a step to let him in.  
He didn't move at first, just looked up at her, and her smiled faded slowly at the look in his eyes. "So, Devon, are you... I mean, I'm trying to do the right thing here, but..." He took a step inside the door, and Devon's pulse quickened as his tongue played over his bottom lip. "I really don't wanna do the right thing, you know?"

"I'm not drunk, Dean. And I never wanted you to leave in the first place." He stepped in a little further, and she closed the door. When she turned around, he was right in front of her.

"Good." He reached one hand to her face, his thumb softly sweeping across her cheekbone as she looked breathlessly up at him. Then he reached back and removed the clip from her hair, sending it tumbling around her shoulders. The clip fell to the floor as he cradled her face in both hands, bending to kiss her softly, then raising his head to look into her eyes. "Are you sure you wanna do this, Devon?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. She was lost in his eyes, unable to speak for the moment, and she nodded, feeling weak as his fingers tangled themselves in her hair. He bent to kiss her again, his lips caressing hers as they parted, their tongues meeting in a sensuous dance. She slid her hands around his waist and up his back, pulling him closer as she lost herself in the kiss. A tiny whimper escaped her lips, and his hand grasped hold of her hair, gently pulling her head back as he lowered his lips to her neck, nibbling softly as Devon's knees almost gave way beneath her. His other hand was at the small of her back, pressing her closer to him, and she could feel him, hot and hard, against her.

He kissed her again, then looked down at her, putting his hands on her arms and sliding them down to take her hands, backing up slowly. He led her to the couch, lowering himself down and pulling her towards him. She straddled his lap, and he reared his head back slightly, clenching his teeth and inhaling sharply through them as she made contact. Now it was her turn, and she bent to kiss his throat, touching her tongue to him, tasting him, and nipping gently at him with her teeth. His hands cupped her bottom, pulling her tighter against his erection, and she caught her breath sharply, her hands running up his arms to his shoulders as she raised her head, leaning back slightly, her eyes closed. He sat forward, capturing her lips again, sending her into a frenzy of want, feeling as if she couldn't get close enough to him. He pulled back from her, his green eyes dark with need, and he reached for the bottom of her t-shirt, pulling it up and over her head and tossing it aside as he drank in the sight of her. She shifted on his lap, making him gasp, as she pulled his shirt up next, and he helped her get it over his head, dropping it behind the couch. She ran her hands down over his chest, brushing her palms against his nipples, and he let his head drop to the back of the couch. His eyes closed as she slid her fingers over his belly to his jeans, and he started to sit up, but she pushed him back gently, leaning over to kiss him as she undid the button and slid the zipper slowly down.

She nipped softly at his bottom lip as she pulled away from him slightly, her hazel eyes glowing as she stared at him for a moment, her lips parted, breathing hard. Then she leaned down, touching her lips to his chest, her tongue tasting him, and he felt as if she were setting him ablaze with each touch. She backed slowly off of his lap as she kissed her way lower and lower, until she had reached his waist, and he couldn't repress a low moan of pleasure. She stared up at him, her hands pulling at his jeans, and he lifted himself slightly to allow her to remove them, tossing them aside. She sat on her knees between his legs, sliding her hands up his thighs and hips, and slipping her fingers under the waist of his boxers, tugging gently to lower them as he lifted himself once more. She tossed the remainder of his clothing out of her way and caressed the smooth skin of his swollen member, then leaned forward to tease the tip with her tongue. As she pleasured him with her mouth he moaned her name, writhing against the couch; then he could take no more, and he sat up, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her upright. He looked as if he wanted to eat her alive as he stood, lifting her to her feet. His chest was heaving as he reached behind her and unclasped her bra, bending to kiss her breasts as the interfering garment was sent sailing across the room. Her hands gripped his shoulders as he teased her to a frenzy with his tongue and gentle nips of his teeth, and she barely noticed as he undid her jeans. He slid them and her panties down her legs, kissing her navel as he helped her step out of them.

He stood again, caressing her body with his eyes, then pulling her tight against him, kissing her hard as he held her tight, her arms clinging to him as well. He pulled her with him as he lowered himself to the couch, and she raised to her knees, letting him position himself to enter her. She lowered herself slowly, letting her body adjust to his size, drawing out the exquisite torture a little longer. When he finally filled her completely, she leaned into him, kissing him softly, her breasts crushed to his chest, their tongues tangling sweetly as they savored every sensation. Then she moved, and they lost all restraint as they found their own unique rhythm, the passionate dance that drove them to their limits, and they collapsed in each other's arms, dewy with sweat and happily exhausted.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Devon laid in Dean's arms in her queen size bed, weary but extremely satisfied. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his chest, and she felt him drop a kiss on the top of her head. She smiled, kissing his chest and sighing contentedly. "So, was I 'completely there' enough for you?" she teased, and smiled at his low chuckle.

"I'm not sure, we may have to do a few more practice runs before I can judge," he said playfully, and she tapped him lightly on the chest.

"Hey!"

"I'm just sayin', I need more research to be really sure. It's a tough job, but I'm willing to go the extra mile. That's just the kind of guy I am."

Devon giggled softly. "Yeah, well...maybe I need more research to tell if you're really the man for the job." Dean's quiet laughter rumbled in his chest, and he turned suddenly, putting Devon on her back as he tickled her until she was breathless. "Stop! Okay, okay, you've got the job!" she panted out, and he bent to kiss her softly, then pulled her back into his arms, her head on his shoulder.

"Best job interview I've ever had," he said, and she smiled, letting out a yawn. "Sleepy?"

"I'm wiped out. You're a very hard worker, you know."

"I do love to please the boss. Especially when she gives me a raise."

Devon giggled again. "Okay, I think we need some sleep." She yawned again, and Dean's arms tightened around her. He reached a hand to tilt her chin and kissed her gently, his lips caressing hers sweetly as his fingers softly touched her face. Then she snuggled down onto his shoulder again and sighed happily. She laid there in silence for a while, Dean's arms securely around her. Then she took a deep breath and spoke softly. "Dean? I-I need to know something."

He kissed the top of her head and hugged her gently. "Okay."

"Do you know...Can you tell me, what Dad would have gone through, if he would have lived?" She felt Dean stiffen, and she raised up on her elbow, putting her hand on his face. "No, Dean, this is not about making you feel guilty. I know you set him free. I do. I just need to know. Please." She leaned over to kiss him, but he turned his face and she caught just the corner of his mouth.

"He would have started to change, during the full moon cycle. It would have been painful, bones shifting, fangs and claws growing. And he would have been hungry, uncontrollable hunger that he would have tried to fight, but in the end he would have killed. They eat human hearts." Devon put her hand to his face once more and gently forced him to look at her, bending to kiss him softly, sorry for the pain in his eyes.

"Thank you for keeping him from going through that, Dean. And if I can forgive you, you have to forgive yourself." She kissed him again, and slowly, he responded. Then she cuddled back up on his shoulder and his arms surrounded her once more as they finally drifted off into much-needed sleep.

* * *

The next morning they slept late, wakened by Dean's cell phone next to the bed. He grabbed it and answered sleepily. "Yeah. What's up, Sam?" Devon stirred a little as Dean spoke, not really wanting to wake up. "Okay, I'll head that way. Yeah, she's fine. No, I didn't kill her, smartass." Devon smiled against his chest and he gave her a squeeze. "All right, bye." He hung up and laid the phone aside, then turned to his side, pulling Devon close and kissing her. "Morning."

"Hi. What's up with Sam?"

"Sounds like we have a job. Nevada, sounds like a ghost thing. Wanna come along?" He was talking in between kisses, which was very distracting.

"I'd love to, but...I really need to take care of business here. I need to do the paperwork to cash out my 401K, and get my house and Dad's cabin up for sale. I want to get an apartment in Sioux Falls, find a part-time job somewhere that won't come unglued if I need to take some time off."

Dean looked into her eyes, his face serious. "So you're really committing to this, Dev? You really want this to be your life? Because it's not too late for you. You're not in that deep yet." He was brushing hair back from her face, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch.

"It is, Dean. I can't go back now. This is who I am now. I know I have a lot to learn, I know that. But this is what I'm meant to do. I just have to get my ducks in a row first."

"Well, the first thing we need to do is find you a real car, not that peddle car you drive now." He kissed her as she smiled.

"What's wrong with my car?"

He made a disparaging face. "Seriously? Come on, it's a douche car. You need a decent car, like Baby. I don't want to be working a job and have you pull up in that thing. It's embarrassing."

Devon laughed. "Okay, you can help me find a different car when I have the money, I wouldn't want to embarrass you and Sam!"

"That's my girl." He kissed her once more, grinning. Then his smile faded, and the look in his eyes took her breath away as he lowered his face to hers and kissed her in earnest, his hands warm on her back as they pressed her close. Then he raised his head, putting his hand on her face. "Damn it, I have to go."

"It's okay, Dean. I'll see you when you get back."

"Yes, you will." He gave her a sexy smirk, and she smiled at him as he dropped one more kiss on her forehead and rolled over to the edge of the bed. "Okay, woman...what did you do with my clothes


	18. Chapter 18

Devon finished packing the box on the kitchen table in front of her and taped it shut, sighing as she moved it to the stack in the living room. "Moving sucks," she muttered under her breath, and went back to the kitchen to empty the last of the cupboards. Her cell phone rang, and she grabbed it, glad for the interruption. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dev." Dean's low, lazy voice sent a shiver up her spine as she smiled.

"Dean. Where are you?" she asked, hoping he would say that he was on his way to Brandon. It had been almost a month since the night they had been together, and it seemed like forever.

"We're almost to Bobby's." He sounded hesitant, like he wanted to say more, but couldn't, so she asked, almost dreading the answer.

"Are you guys all right?"

"Yeah, Devon, we're fine." He stopped again, and she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Dean, there's something wrong, isn't there?"

"Yeah. You want to meet us at Bobby's? We'll be there within the hour. I can fill you in on these last couple of jobs then."

"I'll be there, Dean. Whatever it is, it'll be okay."

"Okay. See you there," he said softly. "And Devon...thanks."

Now she was worried, and she rushed herself through the shower and got dressed quickly so she could get on the road to Sioux Falls. She stared at the pile of boxes, scolding herself for not loading up the car, since she was heading that way, but she didn't want to take the time. Dean sounded worried, and since he hadn't wanted to say anything, she assumed it had to do with Sam.  
She arrived before the guys and knocked on the door, then opened it, calling out, "Bobby? It's Devon!"

"Come on in," he answered from the next room, and she closed the door behind her, walking through the kitchen into the living room where Bobby stood, searching for something on the bookshelf. He turned to shoot a look at her over his shoulder. "How's the packing going?"

"Slow. I just want to be finished, get moved and get on with my life. Plus, my mother won't be so close down here, I can avoid the disappointed looks and nagging. She thinks I'm throwing my life away, she doesn't know why and I can't explain it to her. It stinks, Bobby."

"I know. But do you think she'd feel any better if you told her the truth?"

Devon looked at him, her mouth twisted wryly. "No."

"She'll adjust. And at least she won't be in the same small town with you, lookin' over your shoulder."

"I know." She walked over to where Bobby still perused the volumes lining the top shelf of the bookcase. "So, do you know what's going on with Sam and Dean? Dean sounded...I don't know, like something's wrong."

At that moment, the door opened, and Sam came into the room, dropping his duffle bag to the side of the door. Dean was right behind him, and Devon stood watching the two of them as they avoided looking at each other or her.

"Well, boys," Bobby said, turning from the shelves and heading to his chair behind the desk, grabbing the whiskey and some glasses from the drawer. "Are you both healthy?"

"Yeah, Bobby, we're fine," Sam said, accepting the glass from the older man and taking a seat on the couch. Dean took two glasses from Bobby, and handing one to Devon, gestured with his head towards the kitchen. He was barely looking at her, and she frowned slightly, but followed behind him. He sat down at the kitchen table and she sat across from him, looking at him in the dim light coming from the small flourescent bulb over the sink.

"What's going on, Dean?" she asked. "Sam won't look you or me in the eye, and for that matter, you won't look at me either. What happened the last couple of weeks, anyway?"

Dean was looking steadily down at his whiskey. "Well, first of all...Sam's pissed at me. We were in Hollywood, supposed to be on vacation, but Sam was determined to work, so we got pulled into this haunting at a studio. They were filming a horror flick starring Tara Benchley, and uh...we kinda hooked up before we left. So he's mad about that, and maybe you are, too, but I need you to talk to Sam."

"You kinda hooked up." Devon felt a little sick, but she was determined not to let Dean see it. "You're a big boy, Dean. I guess you can hook up with whoever you want. We're not exactly exclusive, I guess, are we?" She sipped at her whiskey, then took a deep breath. "What's going on with Sam?"

Dean was glancing at her when he didn't think she was watching, looking very uncomfortable. "The case before Hollywood. It was a werewolf, and we thought we were protecting this girl. Madison. Sam kind of fell for her, fast and hard. And she was the one we were hunting. He had to kill her. And he's messed up about it."

Devon looked up at Dean, and he finally met her gaze, but his eyes were filled with guilt. He reached out and touched her hand, but she pulled it back and put it in her lap. "See if he'll come in and talk to me, okay?" He stood up and moved towards the living room, stopping next to her for a moment. He hesitated, then Devon heard him sigh, and he walked on into the next room. She heard him tell Sam she wanted to speak to him, and soon the younger brother joined her at the table. He stared down at the table, and Devon finally spoke softly. "Would you rather go for a walk?"

Sam glanced up at her, biting on the inside of his lip, and nodded. "Yeah. Let's do that."

They headed out the door together, and walked as far as the shop before Devon spoke again. "So, Dean told me the short version about Madison. I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry." She reached for his hand, and he grasped hers, holding it as they took a few more steps. "I guess Dean thought I'd understand a little."

Sam stopped next to the Impala, dropping Devon's hand as he leaned on the trunk, folding his arms. "I thought we could cure her. I found some old lore, claimed that if you killed the sire, you could cure their victims. And we thought it worked. But then we figured out that she had to be asleep to change, because the next night...after we..." Sam hung his head, and Devon put a sympathetic hand on his arm. "I woke up, and she wasn't in the bed any more. I heard a noise, and looked up...and it was her, Devon. Madison was the monster. And when we brought her back home the next morning, we had to...she asked me to..." Sam's voice trailed off, and Devon saw tears in his eyes, and she stepped closer, putting her arms around him.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," she whispered, and he hugged her tight, fighting to get his emotions back under control. "It must have made it even worse, thinking that you had cured her. I'm sorry."

They stood that way, holding each other tight, for several minutes. Then Sam took Devon by the arms and pushed her gently back a step, looking at her, misery in his eyes. "You deserve better, Devon. You deserve better than my jackass brother."

Devon looked down at the ground. "He said you were pissed at him." She looked up into his eyes. "He told me, Sam. He told me about sleeping with that actress."

"Whether he told you or not, it's not right. I told him to stay away from you. He didn't listen, and now he pulls something like this."

"Sam, it's not like we're married. We spent one night together. That's pretty much Dean's average relationship span, isn't it?"

Sam looked down at her. "Look, I know you're hurt. You can pretend all you want. But I can tell, Devon. It meant more to you than that."

Devon turned away, and felt Sam's hand on her shoulder. She was angry at herself for the tears that were filling her eyes, and she refused to turn and look at him. "Doesn't really matter, does it?" she said softly. Sam turned her to face him, and put his arms around her again, holding her as she let herself shed a few tears, touched by his concern.

"It matters, Devon."

A little while later, the two of them walked back into the house. Dean looked up from the couch as his brother came into the room, but Sam didn't so much as look his way. He grabbed his bag and headed up the stairs. Dean glanced up to see Devon standing in the doorway, her glass of whiskey in her hand. "You okay?" he asked, and she took a sip from her glass, then downed it.

"Fine." She came into the room, handing the glass to Bobby for a refill. "Thanks, Bobby."

"Bobby said you're getting ready to move. Need some help tomorrow?"

"That would be great. I'd like to get into the apartment here by the end of the week if I can."

Dean looked up at her. "We're taking a few days, so we should be able to help. Bobby's got that old pickup, we can use that. We'll get you moved."

"Thanks, Dean. I'd like to get it behind me."

She sat down at the other end of the couch, and Bobby stood. "Well, you two, I'm going to bed. Devon, if you drink that whiskey, you'd better stay put. I don't want someone to be cleaning you up off the highway."

She smiled faintly at him. "No worries, Bobby. I'll stay." He nodded.

"G'night, then."

After he left, they sat in silence for a few minutes, and Dean grabbed the remote and turned on the television. He got up to refill his glass, and sat down closer to Devon. He reached for her hand, and she deftly moved it before his hand got close. He made a face, nodding his head. "So, you're gonna do the girl thing."

"If by 'the girl thing,' you mean not let you paw over me right after you tell me you slept with some actress, then yeah - I guess I'm gonna do 'the girl thing.'" Devon refused to look at him, sipping at her whiskey and staring at the TV.

"It didn't mean anything. She didn't mean anything."

Now she looked at him, her temper starting to stir. "Oh. That changes everything. I'm sure that what happened between us was so meaningful to you."

"Dev..." He reached out a hand to brush her hair from her face.

"You know what? Why don't you do 'the guy thing' and go screw anything that breathes and wears a bra. Or yourself. I'm going to sleep. Do you want the couch or the floor?"

Dean drew his hand back like he'd been burned. He stood up without another word and grabbed the bedroll from behind the desk, laying it out on the floor and dropping down onto it. Devon set her glass down on the table, grabbed the remote to turn off the TV, and laid down on the couch, pulling the blanket off the back and covering herself.

* * *

Sam walked into the kitchen the next morning, stretching and yawning. Devon sat at the table, the newspaper open in front of her, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She smiled up at him as he walked by, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Morning, sleepyhead," she teased as he headed for the coffee maker.

"What time is it?" he asked, yawning again, sitting down across from her.

"Almost nine. So, you were in bed already when this discussion came up, but...how do you feel about helping me move?"

"Do I have to kill anything?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "No. At least I hope not. Just carry stuff."

"I'm in. Where's Dean?" He looked at Devon over his cup, catching her shrug.

"I don't know. Outside somewhere."

"Did you guys have it out?"

She held up her finger and thumb, indicating a tiny amount. "Kind of. A little bit. Let's just say I shut him down and he wasn't very happy about it."

A crooked grin lit up Sam's face, and he looked down at the table. "Good."

"What's good?" Dean's voice came from the doorway, and Devon tried to smother a smile as she glanced furtively at Sam.

"The coffee," Sam answered. "Where have you been?"

"In the shop. It was time for an oil change, and it was a little cold in here, so..." He helped himself to the coffee and Sam stared, unbelieving, at his older brother.

"Really, Dean? You're gonna whine about someone being mad at you for being a complete dick?"

"I said I was sorry."

Devon turned in her chair. "Was I asleep when that happened? Because I never heard it."

Dean looked a little uncomfortable. "I meant to say it. But then you laid down and went to sleep, and..."

"I laid down and went to sleep because you were being a jerk! Telling me that girl didn't mean anything to you is supposed to make me feel better? If that's the way you treat women, then you can kiss my ass, Dean Winchester!"

Dean's brow was furrowed as he dropped down into a chair next to Sam. "Hey! She used me just as much as I used her! When I left, she told me I was one hell of a PA! It was just a wham bam for her too. So get off my ass!"

Devon stood. "No problem. I won't be getting anywhere near your ass. Sam, if you want to help me move, come on up. I'll be in Brandon finishing up my packing." She headed out the door, letting the screen door slam on her way out.

Dean rose to his feet, cursing under his breath. "Son of a bitch." Then he followed her out the door as Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"What the hell's going on out here?" Bobby asked as he walked into the room, his research interrupted by the noise.

Sam looked at the older man, still shaking his head. "My brother's an idiot."

"Oh. That makes sense." Bobby went to the coffee pot for a refill and glanced outside before heading back to his desk.

"Devon!" Dean called to her as she stalked angrily towards her car. "Devon, hold up! Just wait a minute," he said, a little more quietly as he drew near. "Can we just talk for one minute?"

She whirled around to face him, folding her arms, her head cocked to one side. He approached her, standing in front of her and looking down into her face. "What?" she asked, angry at herself for the shakiness of her voice. She sounded as if she were about to start crying, which she hadn't been until he came after her.

"I'm sorry." She rolled her eyes, looking away from him, and he put a hand on her arm. "Devon. I mean it. I'm sorry. I never even stopped to think how it would make you feel. I never even thought about you being hurt by it. I didn't think you'd really..." He stopped for a moment. "I didn't think you really cared, I guess. I just figured we were sort of...convenient, you know? For both of us."

Devon looked up at him, angry at herself for the tears sparkling in her eyes, and for the effect the boyish confusion on his face was having on her. "Haven't you ever slept with someone who actually cared about you, Dean?"

He looked away from her for a moment, then met her gaze full on. "Yeah. Once. It didn't end well."

"For you, or for her?" Now there was pain in his eyes, and Devon felt sorry for her words. "I'm sorry, Dean, I didn't..."

"She dumped me. I told her our big secret, and she told me I was crazy and that was that. You open yourself up like that, causes nothing but trouble. You're better off just enjoying the moment and not getting too involved. Never ends happy. Not for me." He stood in front of her, his hands shoved into his pockets, the muscle in his jaw working as he stared at the ground. "You're probably better off if I just stay the hell away from you, Devon. I'm sorry."

She leaned back on her car, chewing on her lip, impatiently dashing a tear from her cheek with one hand. "I'd probably be a lot safer. I'd probably be less likely to get hurt. And it would probably be the smart thing to do." She pushed herself off of the car, stepping up close to Dean, reaching her hand to touch his face, her thumb brushing across his lips. "But I'm not very good at doing the smart thing, we both know that." She stood on tiptoe to touch her lips to his, her fingers sliding around to the soft, short hair at the nape of his neck. She hooked the fingers of her other hand into the waist of his jeans, tugging him closer to her, and he moaned softly, his hands freeing themselves from his pockets, his arms surrounding her and pulling her against his body. He backed her up against the car and kissed her back softly and thoroughly.

He raised his head and looked down at her, the warmth in his eyes making her weak. "You are one of the dumbest girls I've ever met, you know that?" he teased, and an amused smirk curved her lips.

"Yeah. I know."


	19. Chapter 19

By late morning, they had Bobby's rusty old Ford pickup filled to capacity with boxes and furniture. The Impala and Devon's little sedan, which didn't hold much, were almost full as well, and Sam went to grab the pizza they had ordered from the local convenience store.

Devon stood in the hallway, looking at the list in her hand, a thoughtful frown on her face. She looked up as a shadow blocked her light, and smiled up at Dean. "Regretting that offer of help yet?" she teased, and a one-sided smile curved his lips.

"It's actually nice to just work for a change, not have to worry about what's coming around the corner at you." He put a hand on Devon's waist, and she felt her stomach do a little flip as he touched her. With his other hand he brushed a wisp of hair from her face, then bent to kiss her. His fingers slid under the hem of her shirt, resting lightly on her skin, and she shivered at the contact.

"Sam will be back in a minute," she whispered as his lips trailed their way across her cheek to her ear, then her neck, his hand sliding around to her back and pulling her in closer to him. Her knees almost gave way as she felt his tongue against her skin, and then she heard the front door.

"Pizza, guys!" Sam called out, and Dean raised his head, looking into her eyes for a moment before kissing her quickly once more.

"Did you get me a Coke?" he said, reluctantly stepping back from Devon and giving her one last look before he headed into the next room. Devon leaned back against the wall for a minute to recover her composure, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, Dean, I got us all a Coke," Sam answered his brother a little impatiently, and Devon smiled to herself as she went to join them.  
They ate their pizza together, and Devon smiled at the normalcy of the moment, chatting and teasing and laughing about regular things. She smiled as Sam looked her way, and was glad to see his dimples show as he answered with a genuine smile in return. Devon was relieved to see him a little more relaxed, especially after all he'd been through the last few weeks.

After they finished, Sam got up and stretched. "Okay, I'll take the truck, I'll meet you at Sioux Falls. You said it's above the gift shop?"

"Yes, it's called Wishes and Wants. The people who own Hazel's, the diner where I'll be working, own the building. One of them is meeting us there with the key, so I suppose we'd better get going."

Devon stood up next to Dean, but as she tried to move, he hooked a finger through one of the back belt loops on her jeans. "We'll catch up Sammy. I'll help Devon load a couple more things into her car and then we'll meet you there."

Sam turned and stared at his brother, disbelief in his eyes, his lips pressed together as he suppressed a smile. "Uh-huh." He turned back towards the door, turning again as he opened it. "I'm not unloading anything until you two get there...just sayin'." Then he left, shaking his head as he pulled the door shut behind him.

"That was subtle," Devon said as she turned to face Dean, but that was all she managed to say as he crushed her to his chest and kissed her hard, taking her breath away. He pulled her shirt up over her head, dropping it to the floor, and stopped for a moment, gazing down at her, hunger in his eyes, and she could feel the heat of a blush in her face. She reached for his hand and took a step towards the bedroom, looking back over her shoulder at him. "Come on," she said softly, and he resisted, causing her to look back again.

"There's no bed in there, Dev. We took it apart already, it's in the truck."

"I know, but there's carpet. Now come on." She pulled on his arm again, and this time he came willingly. He followed her to the middle of the room, and she sat down as he went to close the shades. As he turned back, he pulled his shirt off, and she felt her pulse race at the play of muscle under his lightly tanned skin. He joined her on the floor, pulling her around to straddle his lap, and reached behind her to undo her bra. He stopped again, staring at her, and she felt as if her skin were on fire. He slid a hand slowly up her back, resting it between her shoulder blades as he leaned forward, pushing her back to kiss his way down her throat and to the side, nipping her gently right where her neck sloped into her shoulder, and she shuddered. He made his way down, leaning her back farther, and she gasped quietly when she felt his tongue against her nipple, then let out a soft moan as he gently sucked it into his mouth. He drove her to the brink, teasing her with his tongue and teeth and fingertips, and when he stopped for a moment, pulling her back upright, she stared into the depths of his green eyes, every nerve tingling.

He kissed her softly, their tongues entwining, and laid her back on the carpet, holding himself above her slightly, letting his fingers glide down her side to her waist. He unfastened the button and slowly slid the zipper down on her jeans, and the muscles in her belly tightened as his fingers touched her skin. He raised himself to his knees and slipped her jeans and panties off, then let his hands glide up the inside of her thighs. He bent to kiss her as he touched her, softly growling into her mouth, kissing her more urgently as she reached her arms up to pull him down on top of her. He lifted his head as he skillfully brought her to her climax, aching with his own need as he watched her writhe under his touch, and she cried out from the sensations flooding through her body. He kissed her again as she came back to herself, and she reached for him, causing him to groan as she stroked him through the denim he still wore.

He pushed up from the floor, standing to unfasten his jeans and remove the rest of his clothing, then lowered himself over her, kissing her breast, then moving to position himself. He held himself up, his green eyes dark with passion, as he slid home, and Devon closed her eyes, letting out a long, low moan as he filled her. He reared his head back as her muscles clenched at him, then crushed his lips to hers and began rocking into her as she wrapped her legs around him. When he could contain himself no longer, her raised up, his head thrown back, his breathing ragged as he drove into her, sending her reeling into another orgasm, and he joined her within seconds as she cried out his name. He lowered his head, kissing her gently, then pulled her into his arms and rolled to his side, cradling her against his body as their breathing and heart rates slowly returned to normal.

He tilted her chin with a thumb and forefinger, kissing her gently and deeply, then looked at her with concern as he watched a tear make its way down her cheek. He brushed it away, kissing her damp lashes as she closed her eyes. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly, and a soft smile curved her slightly trembling lips.

"You didn't hurt me, Dean," she answered, almost a whisper, and he kissed her again.

"Are you sure?" His thumb was carefully wiping another tear from her lashes, and she nodded slowly.

"I'm sure." She took his hand in hers and kissed his palm, then held it to her cheek. "I'm really, really good right now."

"I'd have to agree with that," he said, and Devon blushed, hiding her face against his shoulder. He surrounded her with his arms, holding her close, a little disconcerted by the almost overwhelming urge he was feeling to protect her, shelter her. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked again, kissing the top of her head, breathing in the clean, jasmine scent of her hair.

"Dean, I promise you, other than a little rug burn, I'm fine." He chuckled a little at that, and hugged her tight for a moment. They laid together, reluctant to move, for a few moments before Devon lifted her head and looked down at him, her hazel eyes soft and warm. "We'd better get going. Sam's going to kill us." Dean slipped his hand behind her neck, under her hair, and pulled her down gently for one last kiss, and then she slowly pulled away, breaking their bond and leaving him with a little shiver.

They tracked down all of their clothing and got dressed, and Devon grabbed one more small box to carry to the car with her. Dean came out with another, and Devon's car was packed to its limit. "Okay, I'll meet you there," he said, then on impulse pulled her close and kissed her one last time, smiling down at her as he left her side. They each climbed behind the wheel of their vehicles and hit the road, hoping Sam would be understanding about the delay.

* * *

They pulled up in front of the gift shop one after the other, and didn't see the pickup at first. Devon got out of her car and walked to the corner of the building, then waved Dean over and headed towards the alley, where Sam was leaning against the pickup. He was smiling and talking to a very petite woman who stood in front of him, and they both noticed her at the same time. "Thought maybe you changed your mind about moving," he teased, and Devon blushed as he grinned. "Nicole, here's the girl you've been waiting on."

She spoke with a soft southern accent as she turned towards Devon, tucking a lock of dark blond hair, streaked with pink, behind her ear. "Oh, Sam, I haven't minded at all." She smiled, her striking green eyes sparkling with humor. "Don't worry, girl, I wouldn't have missed meeting this tall drink of water for anything!" Dean walked up behind Devon, slipping his arm around her waist, and raised an eyebrow at Sam, but before he could speak, Nicole introduced herself. "Hi, Dean, I'm Nicole. It's so nice to meet y'all." She stepped over to Devon and hooked their arms, drawing her towards the steps that led to the apartment above. "Hazel sent me over with the keys, and I thought you could maybe use a little help unpacking a few things." She continued her chatter as they went up the stairs, leaving the guys staring at each other.

"Well, at least she's not shy," said Dean, and Sam nodded with a smile.

"That's for sure. She's really friendly," Sam answered, and Dean grinned, an evil glint in his eye.

"Really..."

"Shut up, Dean." They opened the tailgate and worked on removing the tarp and straps that were holding the load in place.

Upstairs, Nicole was showing Devon around the apartment. It was small and quaint, and Devon fell in love with it right away, especially the window seat in the living room and the built-in bookshelves. Once they had made the rounds, Nicole stopped and turned to her, taking hold of her arm. "Okay, girlfriend, you have to tell me where you found those two. Because, damn. They are both fine."

Devon couldn't help grinning as she answered. "They kind of found me, actually."

"Well, they are definitely not hard to look at, I'll tell you that." They headed back downstairs to help carry boxes, and Nicole continued.  
"So, I work at Hazel's, too. In fact, I'm kind of in charge when she's not there, but I'm pretty easy to get along with. Hazel said you need a flexible work schedule, and as long as it's okay with her it's okay with me. I think we're gonna be good friends, Devon. Especially when you bring scenery like that along with you." The girls were laughing as they arrived back at the pickup, and the guys exchanged a nervous glance.

"This could be interesting," Dean muttered under his breath, and Sam smiled.

"Yeah...it could be." He shot a smile Nicole's way, and she answered in kind, and Dean looked at his brother, shaking his head. "Dude, she could fit in your pocket," he teased quietly, and Sam laughed as they got busy unpacking the three vehicles.

In a couple hours' time they had everything in the apartment, other than an extra bed from Devon's guest room that was going to Bobby's, and the girls were busy unpacking boxes in the kitchen. Dean came walking in, a couple of beers in his hand, and slipped an arm around Devon from behind, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Thought you might want one," he said softly into her ear, and she smiled her thanks. He handed the other brew to Nicole, and she took it with a grateful smile. She stood staring up at Dean for a moment, and he looked a little uneasily at her. "What?"

"I'm sorry, but you and your brother are just too good-looking for your own good." She took a swig from her bottle. "Speaking of which, where is your brother? We were just getting to know each other when you two showed up. Sam told me what y'all were up to. Could've taken a little longer, there, champ, I'm sure Devon wouldn't have minded." She slapped Dean playfully on the shoulder and left the kitchen, calling Sam's name. Dean turned to meet Devon's amused gaze, his eyes wide.

"I don't think Sam knows what he's getting into," he said, and Devon laughed, sliding her arms around him and standing on tiptoe for a kiss.

"I'm sure he can handle it," she said, and Dean looked down at her doubtfully, but she kissed him again and he focused on that instead. After what seemed like only a few seconds later, they heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. Devon looked up and saw Sam leaning in the doorway, his arms folded, an amused smirk on his face.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving. Can we go get some food, or do I need to leave again?"

Devon heard Nicole giggle as she peeked around from behind Sam. "I didn't want to interrupt you two, but Sam was too hungry to wait!"

The four of them climbed into the Impala, and they headed to a local steakhouse. They talked and laughed together, and Nicole joined right in. When they had finished eating, Devon sat back, Dean's arm around her, and enjoyed her glass of wine, feeling almost as if she was a normal person on a normal date with a normal guy. Dean noticed the brief flash of sadness on her face and leaned over to kiss her softly, whispering, "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, a faint smile on her face. "Nothing. I just wish this was real." She didn't have to explain, because he understood exactly what she meant, and he tightened his arm around her. Sam and Nicole were chatting like they had known each other for years, and Devon smiled to herself. He looked happier than she'd ever seen him, and more relaxed. Nicole was obviously good for Sam, and she hoped for his sake that things would continue to go well between them. She tried not to think of the big secret they all had, and that Nicole had no idea about it. For this one night, she wanted them all to just enjoy themselves and let tomorrow take care of itself. She took a determined breath and relaxed into the shelter of Dean's arm, laughing at something Nicole had said about their waiter, nodding as Dean asked her if she wanted another glass of wine.

When they left the restaurant a little while later, Devon was feeling a little dizzy. Dean smiled at her as he tightened his hold around her waist. "A little too much wine, Dev?" he teased, and she smiled a little sheepishly at him.

"I guess exhaustion and booze don't mix well," she said, and he opened the passenger door for her, closing it after making sure she had her legs inside. Sam and Nicole were climbing into the back seat, still talking, and Dean rolled his eyes, smiling as he got behind the wheel.

"Where to, Nicole?" he asked, starting the engine, and she gave him her address.

"By the way, I loooove your car," she said. "This is what a car is supposed to sound like."

Dean looked at her in the rear view mirror and grinned. "Thanks. It belonged to our dad."

They pulled up in front of Nicole's house, and she reached up to put a hand on Devon's shoulder. "Girl, if you need any more help unpacking, call me. I'll be at Hazel's tomorrow but I'll check in with you when I get off work. You start Wednesday, right?" Devon answered in the affirmative, and Nicole continued. "Dean, Sam, it's been really great to meet y'all, I hope I see a lot more of you." She turned to look at Sam, one eyebrow raised as her green eyes twinkled. "I really hope to see a lot more of you, Sam Winchester." Sam leaned down to kiss her, and Devon averted her eyes from the mirror, smiling. Sam raised his head and smiled down at Nicole, and she made a soft little growling sound. "Mmm! Those dimples!" Before Sam could even think about getting out of the car, she had opened the door and was out. "Thanks for a great time! Have a good night!" Dean waited until she made her way into her house and they saw lights come on before he backed out of the driveway, and they headed back to Devon's place.

Sam got out and leaned into Dean's open window. "Are you staying?"

Dean looked over at Devon. "I don't know. Do you want me to stay?"

She looked up at him. "If you want to stay...yes."

"I guess I'm staying, Sammy."

"Okay. I'll take the truck back to Bobby's. And Dean, let her get some sleep, okay?" Dean looked up at Sam incredulously, and Sam said sweetly, "Good night, Devon," then turned to walk to the pickup.

"Bitch!" Dean called out the window, and Sam laughed.

"Jerk!" he answered, then started the pickup and drove off.


	20. Chapter 20

The next day at around 5:30, Nicole was knocking on Devon's door, carrying a box with styrofoam containers. "I brought supper, Devon. Now, where are those boys?"

Devon laughed. "They don't live here, Nicole! They had some work to do for Bobby, but they'll be here soon. No worries."

"I have been thinking about that beautiful man all day, and I don't know if I could take not seein' him tonight, girl. He gets my motor running, I can tell you that."

"Well, I think you kind of have his revving up a little, too," Devon teased, and grinned as Nicole made a tiny noise of delight.

The guys showed up shortly after that, and they shared the hot beef sandwiches and mashed potatoes Nicole had brought from the diner.

"Next time we get together, I'm cooking," she declared. "I make a mean fried chicken."

"How are you at pie?" Dean asked, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Gorgeous, I make the best pecan pie you'll ever eat. My Gram's recipe. I'll make sure that's on the menu, too." Dean smiled happily as he took another bite, in spite of the disgusted look his brother was sending his way. Nicole put a hand on Sam's arm to soothe him. "Baby, I love a man who says what he likes." She was looking at him from under her long lashes, and Sam couldn't keep a smile from his lips as Devon laughed.

After they ate, Dean helped Devon lug a few boxes to the storage room downstairs at the back of the building. Dean closed the padlock and gave the key to Devon, and they headed back upstairs. Sam was busy running cables for the electronics, and Nicole was finishing up in the kitchen. Dean pulled Devon into the hall and she slipped her arms around his neck, reaching up to kiss him. "Thanks for all your help, Dean. It would have taken me forever by myself." He smiled in reply, and she let her hands slide down his arms, taking his hands in hers. "I'm a little nervous. I have no idea how to live like this, Dean. You grew up never knowing what direction you'd be going, or for how long; I've always had routine, and structure, and plans..."

"And you worry too much." He squeezed her hands and bent to kiss her again. "You just take it one day at a time. You learn to live in the moment. It's not such a bad thing."

"Hey, you two," Nicole said, peeking around the corner. "Sam's got the TV and internet all hooked up, what do you say we watch a movie?"  
Devon made popcorn while Nicole opened some beers, and Devon snuggled next to Dean on the love seat while Nicole headed to the couch. Sam finished fixing a problem with one of the TV cables and grinned as Nicole said, "Get your cute ass over here, Sam!"

He joined her on the couch, taking the beer she handed to him. "You know, I always thought southern ladies were all proper and shy and reserved."

Nicole let out a little snort of laughter. "I prefer to think of myself as a southern woman. I never said I was a lady." Devon held up her beer in a salute, and Nicole did the same, and they searched through the selections on the screen for a movie they could all agree on. They finally decided on a thriller, turned the lights down, and settled in.

When the movie was over, Dean pulled Devon close, and it was a few minutes before the lights were turned back on. When she finally did get up to flip the switch, Nicole was in Sam's lap, and they ended the kiss they were engaged in and looked up. "Time to go?" Nicole murmured, and Devon smiled. Then she turned back to Sam, her arms around his neck. "Can you come over and play?"

A crooked smile lit up Sam's face as he nodded. "Oh, yeah."

They got up to leave, and Nicole gave Devon a quick hug as she walked by, leaning in to whisper, "I am gonna climb that boy like a tree." Devon laughed and gave a little wave as they both said their good-nights and headed out the door hand in hand.

Dean stepped up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, leaning in to kiss her neck, and whispered in her ear, "Can I play, too?"

She turned to face him, a playful smile on her lips as she mimicked Sam. "Oh, yeah."

* * *

Nicole unlocked the door to her house as Sam stood right behind her, his hands on her shoulders. She leaned back against him for a second before opening the door. "Just so you know, I have a big dog in here. Hope that doesn't bother you. He won't hurt you." She looked over her shoulder up at him, an impish smile on her face. "Unless I tell him to." They walked in, and a huge furry dog ambled over to her, tail wagging, and she ruffled his huge head with both hands. "Hi, boy. I know, you're probably hungry."

Sam followed her into the kitchen, after letting the curious animal sniff his hand, finally giving him a lick of approval and letting Sam scratch his ears. Nicole poured dog food into the large dish, and filled his bowl with water. She bent to put the dish down, and when she turned, Sam took her by the waist and set her on the kitchen counter, bending to kiss her, his strong arms holding her tight against his chest. Nicole put her legs around his waist and pulled her body close to his, a small moan escaping her lips as she felt his growing arousal. She broke their kiss, looking up at Sam as she slowly undid the buttons of his shirt, sliding her hands inside and closing her eyes as she ran them over his hard, well-muscled body. "How about we move this party to the bedroom?" she said, placing small kisses over his chest.

Sam picked her up, her legs around his waist, and she directed him to her room. She was driving him to distraction, kissing and licking and nipping at his chest, and for a moment he pinned her against the wall, crushing his lips to hers in a fiery kiss, his hands on her bottom, holding her effortlessly in place. He finally carried her to the bed, setting her down and sitting beside her, and she straddled his lap, kissing him again, tongues entangled, her hands never still. She pushed at his chest, and he laid down, moaning as she ground herself against his erection, pulling her shirt off over her head. She leaned forward, and Sam buried his face between her breasts, running his tongue along the line of her bra as he reached to unclasp it. He flicked his tongue at her nipple, teasing her until she let out a little growl, putting her hands in his hair and forcing him closer to take it into his mouth as she reared back to give him access.

Just when she thought she could take no more, Sam flipped Nicole carefully onto her back, holding himself above her as he kissed his way down her body, his fingers unfastening her jeans. He knelt above her, slowly pulling them down, and Nicole helped kick them off. He ran his large hands up her thighs, looking into Nicole's eyes. Then his expression changed, and he took his hands off of her body as if he'd been burned. "What the hell? Where did you get that?"

Nicole raised up on her elbows, confused. "What?"

"That tattoo." On the right side of her abdomen, just above her bikini line, was a small tattoo, identical to the one Sam had on his chest. He glared down at her, and his voice sounded harsh. "Are you a hunter?"

Nicole's confusion grew. "A hunter? Well, I have a couple of guns, but..."

"A hunter, Nicole. Are you a freakin' hunter and you didn't tell me?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Sam? I got the tattoo in memory of my mom! What is your problem? I mean, I see you have one just like it, but what's the big deal?"

Sam rolled to the side and laid down beside her, looking at the ceiling. "What does that tattoo have to do with your mom?"

Nicole sighed, and after a moment's reluctance, she spoke quietly. "My mother was a... Well, she was a psychic. Go ahead, think what you want, she was a little crazy. She went to fairs, and carnivals, and did readings for people. That's how she made her living." She looked over at Sam, and he turned his head to meet her troubled gaze. "But the weird thing is, I saw her, a couple of times, get actual visions. I mean, I thought at first she was having a seizure or something, but it was an honest-to-God vision. She helped the local cops find a missing girl once, but of course they just dismissed it as luck or something. She played the 'psychic' game on people for the most part, but she really did have the gift, and if she hadn't been drunk half the time, she probably would have been able to use it more. Of course, the kind of things she saw... It's probably why she was drunk half the time." Sam's eyes grew soft as she continued, her eyes sparkling with the tears she was fighting hard to hide. "Anyway, before she died, she showed me a tattoo she had on her shoulder, where it was always hidden by her clothes, I had never seen it. She made me promise to get one, said it would protect me. She was laying there dying, but she wouldn't let go until I promised her. The next day, I had it done."

Sam rolled to his side, raising his hand to gently wipe away a tear that made its way down her cheek. "I'm sorry."

Nicole turned to her side, reaching to put her fingers on Sam's tattoo. "What does it mean, Sam? Is it for protection? Was my mom right?"

Sam's fingers continued to caress her face, brushing a pink strand of hair back and tucking it behind her ear. "It's an anti-possession symbol. It keeps demons out."

Nicole smiled as if it was a joke, but the smile faded at the look on Sam's face. "You're serious."

"Very."

Nicole's hand was tracing little patterns on Sam's chest, and he let his hand trail back down to her breast, watching as her eyes fluttered closed for a second at his touch. "You're not a demon, are you, Sam?"

His lips curved in a one-sided smile. "No." His hand was sliding down her body now, and Nicole was undoing the button of Sam's jeans.

"Good. Because I definitely don't want to keep you out." She gasped softly as his fingers dipped into the front of her panties, and she slid his zipper down, following his lead, taking him into her hand. She leaned closer, taking his bottom lip in her teeth and tugging gently, then sucking it between her lips as he moaned softly and pulled her hard against his body, his fingers slipping inside her. He drove her to a frenzy as he kissed her, and she stroked him until he pulled back, unable to wait any longer.

He pulled her panties off, then stood to remove his clothes, staring down hungrily at her. As he crawled between her legs, he hesitated, and Nicole put a hand on him again. He threw his head back at her touch, his voice rough. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you, Nicole."

"Listen. I may be small, but I can take whatever you've got, baby. You're not gonna break me, I promise." Sam's breathing was ragged, and he grabbed her hands, pinning her arms to the mattress as he lowered himself over her, kissing her , his chest brushing against her breasts, until she was almost crazy with need. "Please...Sam..." she managed, and then he slid slowly inside her, holding himself in check to give her body time to adjust to him. She writhed beneath him, and they found their rhythm as she rose to meet every stroke, until he could hold back no longer and drove into her, sending her reeling over the edge. She dug her nails into his back, biting down on his chest as she came violently, almost screaming as he joined her, plunging into her until he exploded into her with a growl of pleasure.

He slipped his arms beneath her, rolling to his side and pulling her with him, cradling her against his body, kissing her gently as they came down from their high. He looked into her shining green eyes, still fighting to catch his breath. "Damn, you are a little wildcat, aren't you? You bit me."

She smiled, leaning over to kiss the mark on his chest, touching it with her tongue, and Sam closed his eyes at her touch. "Yeah. You kind of bring it out in me, I guess." She kissed the spot again, then snuggled up on his shoulder. Just as she was drifting off to sleep, she felt him move and pull out, and she made a sad little noise as Sam grabbed the covers and pulled them up. Then he gathered her into his arms and kissed her forehead before joining her in some much-needed sleep.

* * *

Nicole woke, disoriented, looking around her with confusion. She stood on a dirt road, and a little ghost town loomed ahead of her in the darkness. She could hear Dean, calling Sam's name, but she couldn't see him. She saw Sam stumble onto the road, limping and injured. He held something in his hand, but he let it drop as he moved slowly towards the sound of his brother's voice.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall black man, a soldier wearing fatigues, coming up slowly and silently behind Sam. He bent to pick up whatever Sam had dropped, and she saw it as clearly as if it had been in a spotlight. It was a knife, and she panicked, trying to call out to Sam, but it was as if someone had stolen her voice. She could hear Dean yelling more urgently now, and she saw the other man slip up close to Sam. He drove the knife into Sam's back as Dean screamed, "No!" He ran to his little brother as the soldier ran into the darkness. Nicole's voice returned to her, and she screamed as Sam dropped to his knees, collapsing into his brother's arms.

She continued to scream, tears streaming down her face, as Dean shouted his brother's name, and then suddenly she was being shaken violently. Sam was calling her name, and she looked around her, eyes wild with panic, and found herself in Sam's arms, in her bedroom, and he was soothing her and holding her quaking body close as she sobbed hysterically.

"Nicole, it's okay. You had a nightmare, you're safe," Sam said in a soothing voice, but she continued to cry.

"No! It was no nightmare!" she cried out, pushing away from him and getting off the bed, grabbing her scattered clothing and putting it on as quickly as she could manage. Sam followed suit, getting dressed again, and then grabbed her arm and made her sit on the bed as he sat next to her.

"Nicole. You were asleep. You woke up screaming. That's a nightmare." Sam tried to reason with her, but she shook her head adamantly. Her sobbing had stopped, and she was taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She looked up into Sam's worried face, and felt another flutter of panic in her belly.

"It was not a nightmare, Sam. It was a vision. A real vision, like my mother used to have. And I saw you die."


	21. Chapter 21

Devon sat straight up in bed, eyes wide, disoriented. Dean was out of bed, gun in hand, searching for his clothes. He laid the gun on the bed, pulling his jeans on as another loud, violent knock shook Devon's front door. "Dean..." she started, and he held up a hand.

"Just stay here, Dev, until I check this out." He pinned her with a dead serious look, and she slowly nodded. He walked out of the room, his gun cocked and in his hand once more, and Devon got out of bed and grabbed some yoga pants and a long-sleeved v-neck from her drawer, putting them on hastily in preparation for...well, she didn't know, but she wanted to be dressed for it.

She heard Dean jerk open the door, and then heard Sam's voice. "Dude! Take it easy! It's just me, Dean. And Nicole."

Dean's voice sounded angry as he answered, and Devon came out of the bedroom. "Damn it, Sammy! Try a phone call next time, give me some warning!"

"Sorry! Nicole was upset, she wanted to talk to you guys right away." Nicole pushed past Sam at that point and walked straight to Devon, throwing her arms around her and bursting into tears. Devon hugged her, looking at Sam with concerned confusion. She led her sobbing friend to the couch and sat down with her as Sam pulled Dean into the hall. "She's hysterical, man. She had some kind of vision, and she says she saw me die. I couldn't let her get in the car and drive herself, and she wasn't waiting around for me to make a phone call."  
Dean listened, a worried frown on his face. "Vision? Is she..."

"No, she's not like me. Her mom was psychic, apparently. So she must have gotten it from her."

"So what did she say?"

"I just told you everything she said. Once we have her calmed down, maybe she can tell us the whole story."

The guys walked back into the living room, where Devon had Nicole somewhat settled down. "Sam, would you go put the teakettle on?" she asked softly, and Sam nodded, heading for the kitchen. "Nicole, it's okay. You're here now, just calm down so you can tell us what happened. Okay?"

Nicole raised her head from Devon's shoulder and nodded slowly. "I'll try. But I've never...I don't know how to handle this. This was my mom's thing, not mine. I don't even know what to do with this."

Dean sat on the edge of the coffee table and laid a hand on Nicole's knee. "Just tell us what you saw, Nicole. Take your time. We're not going anywhere."

Devon moved, taking her arm from around Nicole's shoulders. "I'm going to get us a cup of tea. Just relax for a minute, I'll be right back, okay?"

Nicole nodded, and Devon rose and walked into the kitchen. Sam was standing near the stove, a worried frown furrowing his brow. She went to him, putting her arms around him and hugging him, and he did the same. "She'll be all right, Sam. She just needs to take a little time, breathe, stop panicking. She'll be fine." Sam hugged her close again, then stepped back. "Go out there, she needs you. I'll be right out." Sam was looking at her doubtfully, but Devon gestured towards the living room with her head, and Sam took a deep breath and headed that way.  
Devon carried two cups of chamomile tea into the living room, setting one in front of Nicole, who was now in Sam's arms on the couch. Dean stood up from his perch on the table and followed Devon to the love seat, sitting beside her and putting an arm around her shoulders as she tucked her legs up underneath her. "Okay, Nicole, just drink your tea and talk whenever you're ready, okay?" Devon said quietly. Dean leaned over to place a kiss on her temple, his fingers gently running up and down her arm as she cradled the hot tea in her hands. She laid her head back on his shoulder for a moment, and he bent to kiss her softly.

"You okay?" he whispered, and she nodded, touched by his tenderness. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he managed to surprise her. She smiled as he kissed her again, and then she sat up to take a sip of her tea. Nicole was doing the same, she was relieved to see, and she smiled over at her. Sam was still looking worried, but Nicole was visibly calmer, tucking herself in under Sam's arm and sipping from the soothing hot liquid. She finally sat up straight, moving to the edge of the couch and setting her cup down.

"Okay. I'll tell you what I saw. It doesn't make any sense, but here goes." She described what she had seen, the ghost town in the darkness, Sam slowly limping down the dirt road towards Dean, the man in fatigues coming up on him from behind. "He picked something up from the ground, and I could see that it was a knife. Dean tried to warn Sam, and I was trying to yell at him, but my voice was gone. And then that soldier..." Nicole was shaking now, and her tears were flowing once more as she looked up at Dean. "He shoved that knife into Sam's back, and then he twisted it, and I could hear the sound, it was horrible... " She shuddered as she continued. "You were screaming his name, and you ran to him just in time to catch him as he fell to his knees. You were talking to him, telling him it wasn't so bad and that it was your job to take care of him... And then he died in your arms." She could barely talk as she finished, and Sam pulled her back into his arms and held her, meeting his brother's eyes for a split second and seeing the fear he was feeling mirrored there.

Devon was crying, her hand over her mouth, and she looked up at Dean. There was a hint of fear in his eyes, soon replaced by anger, his jaw was set, and as he put his arms around her she could feel the tension in his body. "That's not gonna happen, Nicole. I won't let it." Devon looked up at him as he stared intensely over at his brother. "No way in hell, little brother. You hear me?" Sam nodded hesitantly, then focused on Nicole, speaking softly to her as he held her close. Devon slipped her arms around Dean, and he tightened his hold on her. "No way in hell," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

"Dean!" Sam's voice was raised in frustration as he stood facing his brother, who was standing, arms folded, leaning against the Impala. "We can't just sit here, not do our job, because of that vision!" Devon stood a few feet away, watching silently, as Dean raised his chin defiantly, his arms folded stubbornly across his chest. It had been two days since Nicole's vision, and the stress of the situation had not let up.

"Yeah. We can."

"We're hunters, Dean. We both know it's risky, but it's the nature of the job. And if we don't do our job, people are gonna die."

"And if we do, you're gonna die."

"Since when do you put so much faith in visions? And we're not going anywhere near a ghost town!"

Dean threw himself up straight, his eyes angry. "I said we're not going. That's that, Sammy. You understand me?" His long stride carried him up the stairs, the door to the apartment slamming shut, and Sam sighed loudly in exasperation. He looked towards Devon, shaking his head, his mouth tight with anger.

"Damn it, Devon! Deacon needs our help. I don't know how exactly we're supposed to help, but he wouldn't have called if it wasn't really serious."

"I know, Sam." She came closer to Sam, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "I'll try to talk to him. If anything changes, I'll call you, okay?" Sam got back into Nicole's car and backed out as Devon headed up the stairs to her apartment.

Dean was sitting on the couch, his feet up on the table, beer in hand. "Don't say it, Devon," he snapped as he raised the bottle to his lips.  
She put her hands on her hips. "Don't tell me what to do, Dean. You have to listen to someone. You're going to drive Sam to go out on his own if you keep this up." He sent a baleful glare her way, but she didn't budge. "You know, that may scare some people, but I've lived through that look of yours several times." She sat down next to him, taking the beer from his hands to set it on the table. Then she turned to him, gliding her fingers gently across his face and running her hand around to the back of his neck. She leaned in and kissed him softly, and she could feel him relax just a little. So she kissed him again, and this time he answered back with a little groan, grabbing her and pulling her onto his lap as he deepened their kiss. His hand was sliding underneath her shirt, but with all her will she pulled back, grabbing his wrist to stop him and staring down at him, taking a deep breath for strength as she felt him growing hard beneath her. "No. You're not going to distract me, Dean. We need to talk about this."

"I'm better at show than tell," he said, his voice low and inviting, and with one quick move, she was beneath him on the couch, her wrists held in one hand while the other slipped underneath her shirt and his lips claimed hers. He raised his head, looking down into her eyes, that look that she swore could melt the clothing off any woman he turned it on, and she couldn't help but smile a little.

"Fine. We'll talk after. But we will talk," she argued weakly, and a sexy, triumphant smirk curved his lips.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," he said, then bent his head to kiss her again, releasing her hands as he put both hands to work unbuttoning her shirt.

* * *

Sam pulled up in front of Hazel's and went to the door, peering through the glass to see if the place was packed. It was fairly empty, so he walked in and took a seat at the counter. Nicole walked out of the kitchen, and her face lit up when she saw him there. "Sam! You missed me, didn't you?"

Sam's smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and Nicole put her hand over his. "What's wrong, Sam?"

He shook his head and Nicole got him a cup of coffee. "Dean's just being completely unreasonable. He's afraid if we go on a job, I'll somehow end up just like you saw in your vision. He won't listen at all."

Nicole stood on tiptoe to lean over the counter and kiss him softly. "He's just worried about you. It scared all of us, Sam. I know you feel like you have to work, but really, I understand how he feels." Sam had explained the whole hunting thing to her the day after her vision had happened. He had needed someone to talk to, and she was so glad he had chosen her to share it with. At least she had an open mind about what he had told her, not like Dean's first love, who had told him he was crazy when he opened up to her, according to Sam. Nicole had seen and heard too many unexplainable things growing up with her mother to doubt that there were creatures and demons in the world. And that explained why her mother had insisted on her getting the tattoo.

Sam's hands dwarfed the coffee cup he was holding, and she stared at them, remembering them on her skin. A little shiver escaped as she put her hand over his again. "Sam, he'll come around. Just give him a little time."

"Yeah, well, in the meantime Deacon needs our help with something. He's an old friend of our Dad's, and we owe him, Nicole. We can't just leave him hanging, you know?"

"Maybe Devon can get through to him."

"She's gonna try. I guess we'll see."

* * *

Devon laid against Dean's chest, her breathing slowing as his fingers aimlessly caressed the smooth skin of her back. He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up towards his, kissing her gently, lingering over her lips as their heart rates slowed to normal. Then she snuggled against his shoulder as he held her close, and he smiled as she shivered. "Cold?" He pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and covered them both with it, and Devon sighed with contentment.

"Let's just stay here, like this, okay? Forever."

Dean smiled, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. "We'd starve."

She tilted her head to look up at him. "I suppose I could get up and make us some food, and then come back."

"If you're cooking like this, I'll come with you," he teased, and she giggled softly.

She pressed a kiss to his chest, and took a breath before speaking, almost reluctant to bring up the subject again. "Dean... We really do need to talk about Sam."

He was silent for a moment, and Devon was afraid the argument would start all over again, but then he answered her quietly. "I know. You're right. I don't want Sam going off half-cocked by himself. In fact, I should call Deacon right now." He bent to kiss her again, and then she moved, allowing him to sit up. He glanced back at her, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You're kind of distracting me, Devon." She smiled, blushing a little as she wrapped the blanket around herself and got up, gathering her clothes and going into the bedroom to get dressed.  
When she came out into the living room, Dean was just pulling his t-shirt over his head. "Well, Sam's not going to like this one. You'll have to sit it out, Dev. No way you can come along this time."

"What? Why not?" she asked, disappointed.

"Well, for one thing, tomorrow's your very first day at work. And for another, Sam and I are going to be in prison. They don't usually let you bring women along."

"In prison? Dean, what are you talking about?" She grabbed his arm, looking up into his face.

"Deacon's a prison guard at Green River County Jail in Little Rock. They've got what sounds like a vengeful spirit, and it's killing people. The only way to stop it is to get in there."

"Are you crazy?" Devon's eyes were wide as she stared up at him. "You're serious, aren't you? You ARE crazy!"

"Deacon's got a plan, we'll gank the ghost, and then he'll help us escape. Piece of cake." Devon turned to walk away, shaking her head, but Dean grabbed her arm and pulled her close. "Hey, we'll be fine. Don't worry." She turned her face away as he bent to kiss her, and she closed her eyes as he nuzzled at her neck.

"I'm so mad at you right now," she murmured, and he let out a low chuckle as she half-heartedly smacked him on the chest. He took her face in both hands and kissed her until she relaxed against him. Then she looked into his eyes, fighting to keep her fear from showing. "Sam's gonna kill you."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Probably."

* * *

"This is the stupidest idea you've ever had, Dean," Sam shouted, and Nicole and Devon retreated to the kitchen, a safe distance away, as the brothers argued.

"Is he crazy?" Nicole asked, incredulous. "They're gonna break in somewhere, deliberately, to get caught and thrown in jail? Does Dean have any idea the kind of badasses they put in places like that?"

Devon shook her head. "I know, Nicole. I agree. But I also don't have a better idea. So here we are."

Nicole put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. "I don't care." She marched past Devon and into the living room, where the guys were still arguing back and forth. "Dean Winchester, are you out of your freaking mind?" She put her hand on his chest and shoved him, and Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You are going to get yourself, and Sam, thrown into a prison, on purpose? That is the stupidest plan I've ever heard!"

Sam took Nicole's arm and pulled her away from Dean, who was now glowering at her. Devon came to his side, putting a hand on his arm. "Calm down, Dean."

"You're a nut job, you know that? You're gonna get your brother killed!"

Now Devon had to take a step in front of Dean to keep him from approaching Nicole. "Dean! Stop it, now! She's just worried about Sam."

"I'm worried about both of you, Dean!" Nicole turned to Sam, looking up into his face. "Sam, don't do this, please."

Sam perched himself on the arm of the couch and pulled Nicole close. "I hate this idea just as much as you do. But I don't know how else to get in there and kill this thing, Nicole. We have to do this. And it's not Dean's fault."

Nicole let Sam hug her for a moment, then shoved herself back, whirling to glare at Dean. "You'd better bring him back in one piece, or so help me, we're gonna have words!" Then she stalked from the room, and Devon kept her hands on Dean's chest as he fought his temper. Sam was looking at him, a helpless 'I don't know how to deal with her' look on his face, and he finally unclenched his jaw and put his arms around Devon.

"We'll be all right, Dev, I promise."

She put a hand on his face and reached up to kiss him. "You'd better be."


	22. Chapter 22

"You all right, hun?" Nicole asked as Devon stood at the window, staring out at nothing. She had been standing there for a while, apparently. She turned, smiling a little, and walked back to the couch, plopping down there limply.

"I'm okay. I just-I hate not knowing what's going on. Usually I at least have Bobby to fill me in, but they're inside this time where there's no communication, and I hate it. They've been gone for a week, and no news. Isn't it driving you crazy?"

"Of course it is, girl!" She dropped down next to Devon. "You know what we need? A girls' night. A couple of drinks, a good movie, some kind of sinful dessert...what do you say? Party at my house tonight?"

They had worked together all day that day, and it had been a busy one. Devon was exhausted, but she knew she wouldn't sleep anyway, so why not? "Sure. Let's do it. I'm game."

"Yes! Party time at Nicole's. Now let's go shopping, we need some good, decadent food, and a movie with hot guys. And..." Devon grinned, shaking her head as she followed Nicole, who was still talking, to the door.

"Oh, wait." She stopped, turning to the desk by the door. "I want to leave a note. Just in case."  
Nicole smiled. "Good idea, I'll wait in the car."

Devon jotted a little note, saying, "I'm at Nicole's. If you get home, you'd better come and get me. I miss you." She signed her name, wanting to say more, but left it at that and went to join her friend.

* * *

It was almost 1 a.m. when Devon walked into her apartment, kicking off her shoes and padding into the bedroom. She turned on the light and started getting ready for bed, then spied one of Dean's t-shirts hanging over a chair. She lifted it to her face, breathing in as she closed her eyes. It still smelled like him, and she threw her pajamas on top of her dresser, pulling his shirt over her head instead. It was huge on her, but she didn't care. She shut off the light and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up and hugging the shirt to her body as she curled up, sighing. She had called Bobby earlier in the evening, but he hadn't heard from the guys either, so it was another night of going to sleep without knowing how they were. She closed her eyes and let her exhaustion take her, and before long she was dead to the world.

She felt the bed dip a little as he crawled under the covers with her, and sighed happily as his warm body snuggled up behind her and his arm pulled her closer. Then her eyes flew open and she scrambled out of the bed, turning on the lamp beside the bed. Dean blinked up at her, confused. "What the hell? How did you get in here?" Devon almost shouted at him, then dropped down to the edge of the mattress, her heart pounding.

"Hey, I've been picking locks since I was 8 years old," he said, matter-of-factly. "I figured this was better than waking you up."

"Yes, having the crap scared out of me in the middle of the night is always preferable to a phone call!" She was still shaking, and he reached a hand out to her, folding back the covers.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. C'mere." She hesitated for a second, then switched off the lamp and got back into bed, slapping him on the arm as she did so.

"That's for scaring me half to death," she said, and then allowed him to pull her close. He kissed her gently, his hand in her hair, until her anger slowly ebbed.

"Am I still in trouble?" he asked, and the sound of his voice sent a quiver through her.

"Big time. Are you okay? Is Sam okay?"

"We're fine. Deacon's fine. We got away from Henriksen again. Burned the remains, ganked the ghost." Dean's hands were beginning to wander as he answered her questions, and she caught her breath as he slid his fingers under the hem of her borrowed shirt and touched her skin.

"I was worried. Nicole was worried, we didn't know what was going on, or how long you'd have to be inside." Her voice sounded a little breathless as he cupped her breast, and she could feel his arousal hard against her body.

He put his lips next to her ear, whispering, "I'd like to be inside right now." She didn't even try to answer as his lips touched her neck and she shivered, giving herself completely to the sensations rippling through her body.

* * *

Sam sat outside Nicole's house, hesitant to knock on her door at 3 a.m., but he finally talked himself into it. He knocked quietly, not wanting to startle her too badly. "You should have called, idiot," he said to himself under his breath, and then the door opened slowly.

"Sam? Sam! You're okay! We were worried sick!" She stepped back to let him in, still a little muddled from the deep sleep she had been in.  
She closed the door and turned to face him, and he smiled a little. "You look really cute in that t-shirt, with your hair all messed up." And then he grunted in surprise as she balled up her fist and punched him in the ribs.

"I look cute?! I have been scared to death for you, locked up in prison, and you couldn't even call when you were out of there and safe? Where is Dean? Is he at Devon's?"

Sam nodded silently, rubbing the spot she'd hit. "Yeah, he headed right over there. And I'm sorry, we should have called, okay? Stop the violence." He took a step towards her, and she backed away. "Nicole, I said I was sorry."

He was looking at her with those big hazel eyes, and Nicole felt her resistance melting fast. Sam bent to kiss her, and she slid her arms around his neck, letting him pick her up, and she wrapped her legs around him as he kissed her, carrying her into the bedroom. He sat down on the bed, and Nicole buried her hands in his hair as she kissed him back with abandon, meeting every thrust of his tongue, crushing herself against his well-muscled chest. His arms were tightening around her, then he slid one had down her side, along her thigh, and she broke their kiss, looking down at him, a predatory look in her green eyes. She slid from his lap and knelt on the floor, helping him out of his boots and socks, and reaching to undo his jeans. "Let's get these off, shall we?" she said softly, and Sam stood to let her pull them down, stepping out of them, leaving only his boxers. He stripped off his shirts, dropping them to the floor, and reached for her, but she stepped back again, shaking her head.

"Oh, no. You have been a very bad boy, Sam. There will be no touching until I say so." A look of amused surprise crossed his face, his hands up as he backed off. "Now please lay down."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, doing as he was told, and Nicole let an evil little smile curve her lips. She crawled up on the bed, straddling him, and kissed him until he reached for her again, but she firmly took his wrists and laid his arms out to his sides, shaking her head.

"No touching, I said," she said firmly, then bent to kiss his neck, running her hands over his chest as she kissed and nibbled and nipped at him, setting his nerve endings on fire. She made her way down his chest, laving at his nipples, watching as his hands gripped the sheets in an effort to keep his hands at his sides. "Good boy," she purred, then sat up for a moment, pulling her t-shirt over her head and baring herself to his heated gaze.

He rolled his head to the side, his eyes closing for a moment. "You are a cruel woman," he muttered between clenched teeth, and Nicole grinned as she gently dragged her nails down his torso.

"Maybe next time you'll think to call," she said softly, then bent to continue where she had left off, working her way down his abdomen, marvelling at the hard, toned muscles as she tortured him with her lips and tongue and teeth. She reached the top of his boxers, slipping her fingertips underneath and pulling them slowly down. Sam was almost panting now, his hands digging into the bedding as she dragged her breasts across his skin with every movement.

She crawled off the bed, taking his boxers off and discarding them, then climbing back up between his knees, her fingers feather-light as she touched him, and he moaned out loud. She couldn't stop the low, evil little chuckle that escaped as she lowered herself to him, her tongue flicking out to touch him, and he thrashed his head around as she took him into her mouth. "God, Nicole," he said in a whisper, then took in a harsh, hissing breath as she drove him to near madness, her hand helping to stroke him. She finally stopped, just short of him exploding, and crawled back up to straddle him once again, almost unable to bear the torture herself any longer. She ground herself against him, a small whimper escaping her own lips as she bent to kiss him, pressing herself against him as she devoured his lips, moving against him until he let out an animalistic growl and grabbed her roughly, flipping her onto her back. He tore at her panties, ripping them apart on one side, and she kicked them the rest of the way off quickly as he positioned himself, fighting for restraint as he entered her, still hard enough to make her gasp. Then he drove into her, over and over, holding himself slightly above her, and she cried out as she reached her peak, grasping at his hips and meeting each thrust. He joined her then, exploding into her with a shout, and she cried out again as he pounded into her.  
He rolled to his side, holding her close, their bodies slick with sweat as they both panted for air, Nicole still whimpering slightly with each breath. Sam kissed her, holding her gently, caressing her lips with his, cradling her in his arms. "Did I... Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he asked, half-afraid of the answer.

She shook her head slowly, still fighting for breath, weak as a kitten as she clung to him. "I'm good," she managed, and neither spoke another word for some time as they drifted slowly down from their shared euphoria.

* * *

Nicole woke slowly, her eyes reluctant to open. She crawled out of bed, walking down the hall, which was suddenly unfamiliar to her. Her bare feet were silent on the carpet as she walked towards a dimly lighted doorway.

The silhouette of a man stood next to a baby's crib, the mobile dangling above it still, a night light casting a soft glow over the baby there, and somehow she knew it was Sam. Nicole stepped closer to peek at the child, beginning to smile. But as she drew near, her eyes widened in horror as she watched the man cut himself, then hold his arm over the baby, letting droplets of blood fall into the child's mouth and on his tiny lips. She gasped, backing away, and the man turned towards her, his eyes glowing with an evil yellow light. Terrified, she turned to run, and the mysterious man grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her violently as she screamed...

* * *

"Nicole! Nicole, wake up!" It was Sam who held her in his grasp, shaking her to drag her from the nightmare world she had just been witness to. He held her as she sobbed, fighting her way back to reality, sick with horror at what she had seen. When she had finally calmed, she laid on Sam's shoulder, clinging to him, and Sam refrained from questioning her, wanting her to speak only when she was ready. She finally drew away from him a little, sitting up in the bed, taking a deep breath and exhaling shakily.

"Sam, I had another vision. But this one was from the past. Your past." She turned her head to look at him. "I saw you as a baby, Sam. And I saw a man, standing over your crib. When I came closer, I saw what he was doing." She turned towards him, and he took her hand in his, nodding to encourage her to continue. "He cut himself and let the blood drip into your mouth, Sam. And then he turned to look at me, and I could see his yellow eyes, glowing, full of evil. I know what's wrong with you. Why you're seeing those visions of people dying. That was a demon, Sam, and he poisoned you with demon blood."


	23. Chapter 23

Devon tried to roll over, and ran into a solid wall of Dean. Her eyes opened slowly, and then she smiled, untangling herself from his arms and turning over to face him, letting his arms envelop her again. She snuggled close against him, warm skin against warm skin, putting her arm over him, and smiled to herself. Dean sighed in his sleep, nuzzling his face in her hair and tightening his grip on her, and she allowed herself to doze off again.

She woke some time later, early morning taking the edge off the darkness in the room, cozy and comfortable against Dean's body, her legs entangled with his. His green eyes opened slowly, a languid, sleepy heat in them that kicked her pulse up a notch. A crooked smile curved his sensuous lips as he breathed, "Morning," leaning closer to kiss her softly once, twice, and then with a sudden hunger that took her breath away. She responded in kind, fingers splayed over the taut muscles of his back as he slid one hand down and across her hip, gliding along her thigh, pulling her in closer to him. They were both still naked from the night before, and she could feel him, already hard, between her legs as he pressed himself closer to her, pulling her leg farther up on him and opening her even more to his touch. She moaned softly into his mouth, and he rolled to his back, pulling her with him.

He lifted her, hands on her waist, and she positioned herself over him, sliding down onto him until he filled her completely. She stayed very still for a moment, her head back, her eyes closed, knowing if she moved she would be undone already. Dean watched her, waiting for her to show him she was ready, fighting for control. He slid his hands up her thighs, and watched as she caught her bottom lip in her teeth, and his tongue played over his lips as he felt the muscles in her core squeeze against him. Her long-lashed hazel eyes opened, gazing down at him with an almost feral stare, her lips parted as she struggled to steady her breath. "God, you're beautiful, Devon," he said softly, and she bent to kiss him, her breasts teasing at his chest, and the sensation almost sent him over the edge.

She moved her hips, and his fingers gripped her thighs as he thrust up into her. They were both at their limits quickly, hungry and impatient for each other, and Devon sat up, meeting Dean's every thrust as she rode him hard and fast. She cried out as her world exploded, and he was not far behind, feeling her shudder at his release before she collapsed slowly onto him and he surrounded her with his strong arms. She was trembling a little as she laid there, and he held her close, kissing her face, trailing his way along her jaw line and finally reaching her lips, placing gentle, sweet kisses there as she slowly relaxed. "I like the way you say 'good morning,' he said, and she smiled, settling against him with a happy sigh.

Devon cuddled contentedly on his shoulder for a few minutes, then moved to turn on her side, her back to him. Dean curled up close behind her, one hand cupping her breast, and she smiled slightly as he kissed her ear. She spoke quietly, and he leaned his head closer to hear. "Dean, I need to tell you something, and I want you to promise me not to say anything." He was silent, and she continued. "Can you do that?"  
He answered, his voice uneasy and a little hesitant. "Yeah... I guess."

Devon closed her eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling a rush of emotion, and her voice was a little shaky as she continued. "I love you, Dean. That's all. I just wanted you to know."

Dean laid there silently for a few seconds, his arms tightening around her slightly, and then he backed away a little and took her shoulder, turning her to her back. He looked down into her eyes, putting his hand on her face and brushing a tear from her lashes with a gentle finger. Then he kissed her softly and deeply before pulling her close to hold her tight against him.

* * *

When Devon came out of the bedroom, freshly showered and dressed, she found Sam and Nicole seated on the couch, Dean standing nearby with his hands shoved into his pockets. None of them looked happy, and Devon took a deep breath, approaching Dean, who put his arm around her and pulled her to his side. "What's going on?" she asked, knowing she wouldn't like the answer. Nicole looked up, faint shadows underneath her eyes, and Devon knelt in front of her friend, taking hold of one hand, since Sam had a firm hold on the other. "Nicole, what happened?"

Nicole blinked away the tears in her eyes, her voice raspy as she answered. "Another vision. About Sam." She looked miserable, and Devon hugged her, then sat back on her heels again as Nicole continued. "I saw the past, not the future. Long story short, Sam's been cursed, poisoned with demon blood."

Devon looked up at Dean; the muscle in his jaw was working, his eyes were dark with anger. Sam was looking steadily at the floor. "What? How..."

"The same yellow-eyed son of a bitch that killed our parents. That's how. When Sam was a baby. The night Mom died. He killed her, and then he killed Dad, too. And now I'm gonna kill him." Dean spat out the words, then turned to walk out of the apartment, leaving the door open as his heavy footsteps thudded down the wooden stairs. Devon stood quickly and followed him as Sam pulled Nicole, who was quietly crying, into his arms.

"Dean!" Devon called out to him as he reached for the door on the Impala, and he stopped, waiting for her as she flew down the stairs, running to his side. "Dean, wait. We just need to sit down together, talk about this. There has to be something we can do."

"What? What are we gonna do?"

Devon reached out a hand, touching his arm as she looked up into his eyes. She saw fear and anger there, and even an edge of panic, and her heart ached. "Dean, please. Come back in. We'll figure it out together." She let her hand slide down his arm to his hand, taking hold of it gently. "Please." He took a couple of harsh breaths, shaking his head slowly, then looked into her pleading eyes. He pulled her almost roughly against him, his arms holding onto her as if she were his salvation, and turned, leaning back on the car. She hugged him back with all the force she could muster, willing him to realize that he was not alone, that she was there for him. "There has to be a way," she said softly. "There has to be a way, and we're going to find it."

When they finally made their way back into the apartment, Nicole was pacing the floor, talking on the phone, and Devon looked at her curiously, unable to understand most of what was being said. Sam came from the kitchen, a Coke in his hand, and met his brother's stare for a moment before holding up the bottle with the lift of an eyebrow in question. Dean nodded, and soon Sam came back into the room, Cokes in hand for everyone, as Nicole ended her call and stuffed her phone into her pocket. "Who was that, Nicole?" Devon asked as the petite bundle of energy sat down on Sam's knee.

"That was someone I haven't talked to since my mother died." She took a deep breath, then a big gulp from her bottle. "My uncle Chance. He lives near Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. He knows what my mother was. He knows people down there who can help Sam. He didn't want to help, but he will. What we need is hoodoo."

Dean sat up straight on the love seat, his mouth tight. "Your uncle knows hoodoo?"

Nicole shook her head. "No. But he knows a conjure woman down there. And he'll take us to her. She won't see anyone unless someone she trusts brings them. I finally convinced him we need his help. He'll take us to see her, and maybe she can help Sam."

Dean looked at his brother. "Sam?"

Sam looked up at Devon, uncertainty in his eyes, then met Dean's stare. "Dean, I think we have to try. Because if we don't... Well, Yellow Eyes did this to me for a reason. And I don't want to wait around to see what that is. If there's a chance..."

"All right. We go to Louisiana. We'll leave in the morning." Dean drained his Coke, then stood and went into the kitchen.

"Nicole, you really think this woman can help?" Devon asked quietly.

Nicole nodded. "I think there's a good chance, yes. And it's worth a shot, right?" She turned to Sam, talking to him softly as Devon stood and headed to the kitchen. Dean was standing at the sink, his hands braced on the edge as he stared out the window at nothing. He turned to look at her as she entered the room, his eyes full of pain, and she went to him as he turned to lean on the counter, putting his arms around her and holding her tight.

"Dean, it'll be okay. Nicole really thinks this woman can help Sam," she said softly. She felt the tension in his body as he answered.

"I hope so. I really hope so. Because my whole life, that's what I've tried to do, is protect him. That's what I learned from the time my mom died. Protect Sam. Keep Sam safe. What we didn't know was that it was already too late. That son of a bitch took my family. My whole freaking family."

"He hasn't got Sam. Not yet, Dean." Nicole was standing in the doorway, and Devon stepped back from Dean, and he looked down as Nicole approached him, staring up at him with determination in her eyes. "Don't you give up, you hear me?" she said, then put her arms around Dean and squeezed. He put his arms around her on reflex, shooting a surprised look Devon's way, and she smothered her smile as best she could.

"Hey, what's going on in here?" Sam asked as he stepped into the doorway, a confused frown on his face. Devon grinned as Dean held his arms out to his sides, and Nicole stepped back.

"Your brother just needed a little pep talk, that's all," she said, smiling up at him, and stretching to her limit as he bent to kiss her. "Now, we'd better get home so I can pack if we're leaving in the morning. I'll call Hazel and let her know we have to leave town, Devon. Y'all will pick us up, right?"

"Yeah. We'll be there around 7, we'll call before we leave here." Dean looked at his brother as he dropped an arm around Devon's shoulders. "Sammy, we're gonna fix this. Whatever we have to do. We're gonna fix it. And then Yellow Eyes is going back where he came from."

Sam met Dean's determined look with one of his own. "For good," he answered, then turned and headed for the door with Nicole, leaving Dean and Devon leaning against the kitchen counter.

* * *

The next morning, Devon and Dean threw their duffle bags into the trunk and headed for Nicole's house. They added their supplies to the load, and the girls climbed into the back seat, with Dean behind the wheel and Sam riding shotgun, as usual. Soon they were driving south on I-29, Led Zeppelin blasting from the speakers, and Devon smiled as she saw Nicole getting into the music. "Hey, Dean, can you turn this up?" she asked, and Devon grinned as Sam resigned himself to a long, loud ride.

They drove for a few hours, then stopped for a bite to eat. When they left, Sam and Nicole took over the back seat, Sam stretching out sideways with Nicole tucked between his legs, and they both went to sleep as the Impala ate up the road. Dean put his arm up on the back of the seat and smiled at Devon, motioning her over with a nod of his head. "Come over here," he invited, and she slid over next to him, snuggling under his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. "You can sleep, it's okay," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'm used to driving while Sam sleeps. I know I kept you awake last night, sorry."

"It's okay. I know you're worried about Sam. But we'll get through this, and he'll be okay, Dean. I believe that." She relaxed against him, her hand resting on his thigh, and soon the motion of the car rocked her to sleep.

Devon woke to the sound of Dean quietly singing along to 'Simple Man,' which was playing on the radio, and he stopped and glanced down at her when she moved. "Hey," he said softly, and she lifted her face for a quick kiss. "I'd say good morning, but you know what happened last time," he said, teasing, and she swatted at him, sitting up straight and rubbing the back of her neck.

"Where are we?" she asked, turning to see Sam and Nicole starting to stir.

"We're in Missouri. I figured we'd go as far as Carthage, then stop for the night."

"Want me to drive for a while, Dean?" Sam asked as he sat up.

"Yeah, if you want. I could use a nap." Dean pulled over at the next rest stop and they traded places. Nicole settled happily into the passenger seat and started digging through the box of cassette tapes as Dean and Devon climbed into the back seat, then Sam pulled back out onto the road.

Devon took Dean's hand and smiled at him, whispering, "Come here," and he smiled, laying back with his head in her lap, stretching out his long legs as best he could in the cramped space. He closed his eyes, letting out a satisfied sigh as Devon ran her fingers through his hair, and he was soon sound asleep. She cradled his head, watching him sleep, wishing he could always look as peaceful as he did at that moment.

They stopped in Carthage, Missouri, for the night, and stood in the office together, debating on whether they wanted separate rooms. "Look," Nicole said, "I am not wasting a perfectly good motel room. If you two want to witness what goes on in the bed next to you, be my guest, but I'd get my own room if I were you." Dean shook his head with a wry grin at his brother, then paid for a room for himself and Devon.

By early evening the next day, they were driving through the little town of Breaux Bridge. They followed Nicole's GPS directions to the edge of town, an area sparsely littered with small ramshackle cabins, Bayou Teche just visible to the east. "Should be this one," Nicole said as they passed one of the cabins, an El Camino up on blocks in the front yard, and a huge, mangy-looking dog chained to a tree. The dog leapt to its feet as they pulled up, barking and baring its teeth, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Awesome," he grumped as they got out, and Nicole carefully approached the animal, her hand extended.

"Hey, boy. It's okay, we're not here to hurt you. We just want to talk to Uncle Chance." She kept talking, her voice calm and soothing, and Sam shot Devon a look of amazement as she finally reached the animal and it sniffed at her, then allowed her to scratch its ears. "See, he's not so bad," she tossed over her shoulder, and Sam shook his head, grinning.

"What the hell are you doin'? Git away from m'dog!" A grizzled, filthy-looking old man stumbled down the two front steps towards them, a half-empty beer in his hand. "Th' hell you doin' in my yard, ye're trespassin'!"

"Oh, calm down, Uncle Chance. It's me, Nicole." He eyed her with suspicion as she turned to face him.

"You don't look like Nicole."

"Well, of course not, you haven't seen me since I was 10 years old, you old fool. I'm Nicole, my mama was Camille, and my no-good daddy was Beau. Believe me now?"

"Git away from m'dog! Y'all will ruin 'im fer a watchdog." Nicole held up her hands and stepped back from the animal, who laid back down at a shout from his master. "Th' hell d'you want?"

"I told you on the phone, Uncle Chance. I need you to take me to the conjure woman. We need to talk to her. My friend needs her help."

The old man rubbed his whiskered chin roughly, then squinted at Nicole, his head bobbing drunkenly. "I'll take you to Mama Lesage. Fer a case o' beer."

Nicole rolled her eyes, then turned to Dean. "Dean, can you go pick up a case of beer for my beloved uncle? Since he's so willing to help out family and all."

Dean nodded. "Sure. Sam, stay with the girls, I'll be right back."

Sam came to stand closer to Nicole as Dean drove off, speaking quietly. "This is your uncle?"

Nicole looked up at him, rolling her eyes again. "He was married to my mom's sister. So not by blood, thank God." Devon and Sam tried to hide their smiles, while Nicole's uncle dropped down to sit on the steps, swilling the last of his beer.

Dean was back shortly with the required bribe, which the old man set inside the house, and then turned to Nicole once again. "Well, let's go. I ain't got all night."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to interfere with your social calendar," Nicole muttered under her breath, and Devon barely stifled her laugh. Dean very reluctantly opened the passenger door to the Impala, making a horrible face as the man almost fell into the front seat. He reeked of body odor and stale beer, but he was their ticket in to see the hoodoo woman, so they didn't have much choice. Devon got in back with Sam and Nicole, and they followed Chance's directions down south, past the old cemetery and then east towards Bayou Teche.

He directed them to an old trailer house, parked in the shelter of a huge cypress tree, Spanish moss hanging from it and almost touching the trailer's roof. Dean pulled up and shut off the engine, then came around and let Nicole's uncle out, turning his face away as he climbed out. The old drunk stumbled to the door of the trailer, banging on it with the flat of his hand. "Mama! Mama Lesage! It's Chance Doucet!"

They waited for what seemed like forever before the door slowly opened a crack. "Chance? Qu'est-ce que tu veux?" Devon looked at Dean, who shrugged his shoulders.

"French," said Nicole, who approached the trailer. "Uncle Chance, tell her we don't speak French. We need to speak to her, but in English."

Chance pulled Nicole forward, explaining in broken French that his niece and her friends needed to speak to her. After a short exchange, Chance turned from the trailer and walked up to Dean. "You can take me back now. She says she'll see you, an' you don't need me fer that."

Dean rolled his eyes, sighing, and turned to Devon, his hand on her shoulder. "I'll take him home, just don't do anything or let her do anything until I get back. Okay?" Devon nodded, and he left them standing at the trailer door.

"May we come in, ma'am?" Nicole asked, and the door opened wide. The three of them went up the steps and into the darkened room, and the old woman closed the door behind them.

She spoke in a dry, raspy voice with a heavy French accent. "I am Mama Lesage. What do you ask of me?" Then she turned, and Devon's heart stopped for a moment at the sight of the woman's eyes, completely white and sightless.


	24. Chapter 24

Nicole regained her composure first, and spoke softly to the old woman. "We need your help, Mama Lesage. This man has been poisoned by something evil. Can you help him?"

The woman held out her weathered and wrinkled hand. "Come here, boy. Let me see you." Sam glanced nervously at Nicole and Devon, then stepped forward and placed his hand in hers. She pulled him closer and reached to touch his face, and he bent down, allowing her to run her hand over his features. She finished, letting go of Sam's hand and allowing him to straighten to his full height again, almost touching the ceiling of the trailer. "Yes. You have evil in you. But you are not consumed by it. Not yet." She turned and moved past them towards the back of the trailer. "I need some things. You," she said, pointing at Devon, "come with me."

Devon's eyes widened a little, and Nicole nodded encouragingly to her as she followed Mama Lesage to a room with a closed door. The old woman opened the door and flipped the light switch, and Devon gasped quietly at the contents. Jars and bottles containing things she did not want to think about, bundles of herbs and bones and containers of powders... She tried not to look to closely at anything, and goose bumps ran up her arms as she saw, dangling from the ceiling, the shrunken head of something, she hoped not human.  
The woman shuffled about the room, knowing exactly where each item was. She turned to place a large, flat bowl in Devon's arms, and began putting various items and containers in it. After pulling one more bottle, filled with a white powder, from the shelves and putting it in the bowl, she spoke to Devon again. "All right, that is all we need from this room. Place that on the table for me, cher."

Devon carried the large bowl into the room, setting it down on the table, and Sam put a hand on her arm, concern on his face. "Devon, are you okay? You look white as a sheet."

She drew a shaky breath. "I'm okay. I think I'll go outside and wait for Dean." Sam nodded, giving her arm a squeeze as she turned to leave the trailer. Once outside, she hugged her arms to herself and took in a deep breath of the fresh air. This place was giving her the creeps.

Inside the trailer, Mama Lesage was taking things out of the large basin, arranging them on the table before her as though she could see. She began opening containers, throwing various powders, herbs and items into the bowl, mumbling under her breath, or chanting, Sam and Nicole couldn't tell. Nicole nervously took hold of Sam's arm, and he put it around her shoulders as they watched.

A few minutes later, Dean pulled up, and Devon walked around from the other side of the trailer as he got out and swung the door closed. "I'm glad you're here, I hate this place," she said, coming into his arms. He hugged her, then kissed her gently as she looked up at him. "Dean, I don't trust her. I think we should leave."

Dean leaned against the car, his arms around her. "This witchy stuff always creeps me out, too. But if it can help Sam, Dev, we have to try."

"I just really think we should leave," she said again, then reached up touch his face. "You said I had good instincts, Dean. Please, let's go." She kissed him again, more aggressively, pressing herself up against him, and he responded for a moment. Then, in one swift move, he pinned her against the car, the demon blade at her throat.

"Sam! Sam, get out here, now!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. As Sam came barreling out of the trailer, Nicole close behind him, he snarled, "You're not Devon. You think I don't know exactly how she kisses me? Get out of her, now!"

"Dean, what the hell! What are you doing?" Sam arrived at his side, breathless with shock.

"Devil's trap, now, Sammy! She's possessed," Dean ground out between clenched teeth, furious at the demon and at himself.

"You won't hurt this body," the demon spoke from Devon's lips, and her eyes flashed black for just a moment. Nicole gasped and backed away, going to stand near Sam, who had opened the trunk and grabbed a can of spray paint.

Dean's upper lip was curled in rage and disgust. "If I have to hurt her to save her, I will. So get out now."

"You won't kill her. I know."

"There are things worse than dying, you bitch."

A chilling smile spread across Devon's face. "Dean Winchester, you don't disappoint. I've been wanting to meet you for a long time." With that, the demon violently threw Dean backwards, and he landed a distance away, shaking his head a little before jumping quickly to his feet.

"Hurry up, Sam!" he yelled, running back towards the demon, who was approaching Sam. The devil's trap was almost finished, but Sam turned to defend himself as the raging entity, in Devon's body, attacked him.

"Nicole, no!" he cried out as she tried to stop the demon, grabbing Devon's arm. The evil creature backhanded Nicole, sending her sprawling in the dirt, and then turned to meet Sam's very large fist, which knocked her back a few steps. Sam quickly turned back, working frantically on the devil's trap as Dean fought with the demon, trying desperately not to hurt Devon any more than he had to, trying to keep her away from his brother. Sam finally finished painting the final symbol on the trap, as Dean grabbed the demon from behind, struggling to force her forward. With his momentum, and Sam's help, they wrestled her into the trap together, and Sam opened the book Dean handed him, reading the beginning of the exorcism from the worn pages.

"You think you can hold me in a trap painted in the dirt?" An evil, chilling laugh emanated from Devon's lips as she rose to her feet and approached the edge of the trap, but as she put her foot on the paint line to destroy the circle, Mama Lesage stepped close. The demon took a step back, anger distorting Devon's features, as the old woman chanted, then held out a gnarled hand and blew a powder into Devon's face. The demon howled as Sam continued the exorcism, and as he finished, the demon left Devon's body with a chilling scream, the black cloud disappearing into the bayou. Devon dropped, unconscious, to the ground as Dean rushed to her side, and Sam turned to help Nicole, who was just sitting up on the ground where she had landed moments ago.

"Bring that child into the house," the old woman ordered, shuffling back to the trailer as Dean knelt at Devon's side. He brushed the hair from her face, cringing as he saw the cuts and bruises there from their battle. He stood and bent to lift her into his arms, carrying her inside the trailer and depositing her gently on the chaise lounge that Mama Lesage directed him to. She came to Devon's side, placing her hand on her forehead, her blind eyes closed as she mumbled words quietly to herself. "She will live. She will recover. Now we fix you." She turned her sightless stare towards Sam. "You have an evil in you. Now we burn it out."

Dean sat on the edge of the lounge, taking Devon's hand. Nicole approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder as he looked up at her. "Are you okay?" he asked, eyeing her bloodied lip and swollen jaw.

She nodded. "I'll be fine." She squeezed his shoulder as he stared down at Devon. "Don't you feel bad about this, Dean. You hear me? You were fighting that evil bitch, not Devon. You saved her life, Dean." Dean lowered his head, hiding the guilt in his eyes from Nicole as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Big, tough Dean Winchester. I got your number, honey," she said softly as she gently touched his hair, then headed back to Sam's side.

"Sam. Come to me, cher." Mama Lesage gestured to him, and he drew closer to the table. She nodded towards the bowl. "Spit."

"Spit?" Sam asked, a little confused.

"Spit. In the bowl."

Sam looked a little troubled, but did as he was told. Then he cried out, "Hey!" as the old woman grabbed his arm, cutting him quickly with an ornamental knife before he could pull back.

"In the bowl," she instructed him, holding on to his hand with a surprisingly strong grip. He allowed her to hold his bleeding arm over the bowl, dripping over the ingredients she had already placed there, then took the small towel she handed to him, wrapping it around the cut. "And now, I need your hair," the woman croaked, and Sam flinched back as she flourished a large pair of shears. "Cher, you cut a lock of hair, put it in," she said, handing the scissors to Nicole. Sam allowed her to snip a lock of hair, which she dropped into the bowl, and the old woman immediately began chanting quietly. They watched as she swayed slightly, a sing-song rhythm to her voice, her hands making gestures over the bowl. Then she lit a match and tossed it into the basin, and with a sudden flare of flame and puff of white smoke it was over.

"Now, the poison in your blood will burn. It will burn, and be destroyed. You will be sick with a fever, and when the fever is gone, you will be clean." The old woman shuffled closer to him, reaching for his hand. "Sam Winchester, I bless you and send you forth to battle the demons of this world." She held his hand to her face for a moment, then held it flat and spit into it, then grasping it with her own wizened fingers. "I bless you with good luck and good love and good life. Mama Lesage is finished now. You go."

Nicole was biting her lip to keep from laughing at the disgust on Sam's face. When she had control of herself, she spoke to the woman. "How do we pay you, Mama?" she asked respectfully as the woman moved slowly to leave the room.

"You do not pay. You battle the evil. That is my pay." She continued down the hallway and into what they assumed was her bedroom, and closed the door.

Sam looked at Dean, shrugging his shoulders. "Okay, I guess that's that. Now what?"

"We get the hell out of here and go get a motel room so I can take care of Devon. And she said you'll be sick, I guess we'll see, Sammy. I don't know what to expect any more than you do."

Devon still hadn't opened her eyes, and Nicole approached her, looking worried. "Is she really all right? Mama Lesage said she'd be okay, but..."

Dean was quiet for a moment before he answered. "That demon really wanted us to leave, and my gut tells me that means we can trust her. Not like we have much choice, so... Nicole, can you sit in back with her? I don't think Sam should drive, we don't know how or when that spell's gonna hit him." Nicole nodded, and Dean stood, lifting Devon into his arms, making his way out of the trailer and over to the Impala. Nicole crawled into the back seat, then helped Dean get Devon inside. The guys climbed in the front seat and Dean fired up the engine, heading back towards town, looking for a motel along the highway.

They found one on the north edge of town, shabby but it seemed clean. They booked two rooms, and Sam helped Dean get Devon inside. Nicole stood nearby, still looking worried. "Is she ever gonna wake up?" she asked, and Sam put an arm around her.

"Being possessed... It's not easy. I hope she doesn't remember, but chances are she will. Her body's just trying to deal with the trauma. She'll be okay, Nicole. Don't worry." She turned to Sam, burying her face in his shirt, and he wrapped his arms around her.  
"Hey. She will be all right, I promise." He looked over at Dean, who sat at the edge of the bed where Devon still laid unconscious. "I'm gonna take Nicole to our room. Call if you need us, okay?"

"Same here, Sammy. If anything weird starts happening, you let me know. Okay?"

Sam nodded, then pulled Dean's door shut and led Nicole next door to their room. He sat down at the edge of the bed next to her, and she leaned over on him as he held her close, his hand cradling her head, stroking her hair. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, and she finally nodded.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen," she said, her voice subdued. "To see something else looking out of the eyes of someone you know and care about, I can't wrap my mind around it, Sam."

"Now you understand why Dean and I have the tattoo, and why your mom wanted you to have one. She knew."

"Poor Devon. Will she remember?"

"If the demon allowed her to remain aware when she was inside Devon's body, she will. We won't know until she wakes up. After I was possessed, I didn't remember anything. I woke up, and the next thing I knew, Dean was punching me."

"Punching you?"

"Yeah. Apparently when I'm possessed, I'm a dick."

Nicole smiled in spite of herself, and Sam smiled in answer. "There's my girl. I didn't think anything got you down."

"Well, I guess y'all don't know everything, do ya?" she teased as Sam laid back on the bed, pulling her along, and she cuddled up next to him.

Dean sat silently next to Devon, reaching to brush a lock of hair from her eyes. He cringed at the sight of the marks on her face, one eye blackened, her lip cut and swollen. He knew when she woke she would be stiff, sore and confused, unless the demon had allowed her to remain fully awake while she was possessed. He hoped she didn't remember, that she could just take his explanation at face value and not have to deal with the memories.

He sat there watching her for a few moments, his fingers gently touching her face or stroking her hair. He was just getting up to grab a beer when he heard a soft moan, and turned back to see her moving, her eyes fighting to open. He put a hand on her face, talking calmly to her. "Dev, easy. Take it easy. You're safe, I've got you." Her eyes fluttered open, panic in them for a split second before she focused on Dean's face bending over her.

"Dean? What...where are we?"

"We're still in Breaux Bridge. At a motel. We needed to get some rest before we headed home."

She closed her eyes again, tight, then winced with pain. "My eye hurts." She opened her eyes again and looked up at him. "What happened, Dean?" She reached her hand to touch her swollen eye, then tried to sit up. Dean gave her a hand, helping her sit upright, but she swayed a little and he put an arm around her.

"Take it easy, Dev. You've had a rough day."

She leaned over onto him, and his arms surrounded her. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Would you stop asking if I said no?"

"No." She laid against him, sore, exhausted and weak. "I couldn't take you in a fight right now, but I can still argue."

Dean smiled. "Okay. If you can't let it go until tomorrow, I'll tell you. But you should just sleep tonight, Devon. Could you just trust me on that?"

Devon sighed, then yawned. "Okay. But in the morning you have to promise to tell me the truth." She looked up into his face, and he kissed her forehead.

"Deal."

"I need to get out of these clothes," she said, sitting up straight once again. Dean grabbed her bag, setting it close, and took a beer from the cooler. As he turned, Devon pulled her shirt off, her back to him, and he cringed, clenching his jaw at the sight of the bruises on her body. She finished undressing, then pulled a soft old t-shirt on, moving stiffly and slowly. She turned to look at him, and frowned in concern. "Dean...what's wrong?"

He looked quickly at the floor, shaking his head. "Nothing. You want a beer?" Devon shook her head, and he finished his, turning his back towards her, closing his eyes for a moment. He had put most of those marks on her.

He finished getting ready for bed and they crawled under the covers, Devon snuggling up to him, head on his shoulder, with a soft sigh. He put a gentle hand to her face and kissed the corner of her mouth softly, avoiding the cut on her lip. Then he pulled her close and closed his eyes, ignoring the guilt that was stabbing at him.

Nicole looked up as Sam came walking out of the bathroom, hair still wet from the shower, a damp towel wrapped low on his hips. "You didn't have to dress for me, Sam," she teased, sauntering over to him in her camisole and panties, already showered and fresh, her hair still a little damp. She ran a finger down his chest and belly to the top of the towel, and Sam's lips curved in a sexy little smirk that deepened his dimples.

"You've got more covered than I do," he quipped, putting his arms around her. "So how is that fair?"

"Nobody said things had to be fair, Sam." She stepped back and looked up at him from under her lashes, then pulled the camisole over her head and tossed it over her shoulder. "But if you insist..." She sat down on the edge of the bed, and Sam stared at her, lips parted, enough heat in his gaze to cause Nicole's heart rate to quicken. He came closer, kneeling between her knees, and kissed her lips, then lowered his head to her breast, his tongue flicking against her nipple and making her catch her breath. She buried her hands in his hair, pulling him closer as he made her whimper, and she almost fell back onto the bed, held in place by his hand on her back. "Sam..." she whispered, and he lowered her slowly to the bed, letting his hands trail their way down her body.

He slipped his fingers under the edge of her panties, sliding them slowly off as he kissed her belly, her hip, and down her thigh as he finished undressing her. His hands gently moved up the inside of her thighs, pushing them gently apart, and Nicole fought for air as she felt his hot breath, his tongue, moving up to their goal. She moaned aloud as he covered her with his mouth, his tongue tasting her, teasing her until she was almost incoherent, and finally a low, animal sound escaped his lips, and the vibration sent her reeling over the edge. He gripped her bottom in his huge hands, holding her close as she cried out in ecstasy, wave after wave hitting her until she felt weak and helpless. She laid there, limp, as he kissed his way up her body again, then stood, dropping his towel, and she shook with anticipation at the sight of his erection. He knelt back down between her legs, sliding his hands up to cup her breasts again, teasing at them as he positioned himself at her opening. Then his hands moved downward again as he pulled her closer, entering her and pulling her body up, his arms surrounding her, pressing her against the hard expanse of his chest. He thrust into her as her legs clamped tightly around him, and she bent her head to kiss him, nipping at his bottom lip, which spurred him on harder and faster. She reached down and gripped his hips, and Sam grasped her thighs, making the force behind each thrust even more powerful as he drove into her, unable to hold back any longer. Nicole thrashed about, almost screaming as she came for a second time, and Sam slammed into her with his release, a loud growl forcing its way from his throat. He collapsed forward onto her as she laid back on the bed, no strength left in her body. She finally was able to raise her arms to hold him, running her hands up and down his back slowly, trembling a little as her body began to calm itself.

After a few minutes, Sam finally was able to straighten up. He was shaking a little, Nicole noticed, and she took his hand. "Sam...are you all right?"

He stood on weak legs, nodding slowly. "I think so. But I think that spell might be kicking in. I need to get into bed."

Nicole scrambled from the bed, folding the covers down, then coming around to Sam's side as he lowered himself to the mattress. "Sam, should I get Dean?" She helped him swing his legs up onto the bed, pulled the blankets up over him, then crawled in beside him, her hand on his face. "Sam, do you want me to get Dean?" she repeated, and he shook his head.

"No. She said I'd get sick, run a fever. Just stay with me, okay? Just stay here with me." Nicole looked down at him, worry in her green eyes. This was hitting him really hard and fast. She stared down into his face for a moment, then laid down beside him, slipping her arm beneath his head and pulling him over to rest on her shoulder, holding him close. She tucked the blankets up around them and clung to him, trying to keep her fear at bay. They had trusted the old woman, and she prayed that it had been the right thing to do. Dean believed it was, and she had believed it was, and she had to trust in that.


	25. Chapter 25

Devon moaned softly as she moved her head, still resting on Dean's shoulder. His arms tightened slightly around her, then his eyes snapped open at the noise she made. "Devon? Are you okay?"

"What the hell happened to me, Dean?" she asked softly, trying to sit up, grimacing with pain at every movement. "I can hardly move, everything hurts." Dean helped her into a sitting position, and she stayed in the center of the bed, her legs crossed and her arms held against her body. "You promised to tell me, Dean." She looked up at him, and he cringed at the bruises on her face, her swollen eye and her split lip. "What?!" she demanded, tears springing to her eyes as he turned away from her.

"I'm sorry. I'm the reason you're so messed up. I'm sorry, Devon."

"What?" A tear overflowed and made a track down her confused face.

"You were possessed. I came back from taking Nicole's uncle home, and you were possessed by a demon. We had to fight you off and exorcise it. And that's how you got so beat up. I'm sorry."

Devon pushed herself to the edge of the bed and stood, wincing with pain, forcing herself to take step after step until she reached the vanity and mirror by the bathroom. She let her tears spill freely as she looked at her image, almost unrecognizable at that moment. Dean stood in the doorway as she stared at herself, then turned to him, panic in her eyes. "There was a demon inside me? Oh my God, Dean! It was in me?!"

He stepped closer to her and pulled her into his arms, holding her as she sobbed and shook, hushing her gently as he tried to calm her. Finally, he was able to lead her back to the bed, helping her sit down as he knelt in front of her and took her face in his hands, kissing her carefully. "Devon, it's gone. I saw it leave. You're safe."

"How can I ever be safe if something like that can get inside me without me even knowing? How is that safe, Dean?"

"We're gonna take care of that, I promise. You've seen my tattoo?" Devon nodded slowly, still shaken by the effects of her near hysteria. "Well, we'll get you one just like it. It's an anti-possession symbol, they can't get past it. Then you'll be safe, baby."

She stared into the depths of his green eyes, reading only sincerity there, and she leaned forward, letting him surround her in his arms once again. "Why? Why did it possess me?"

"It was trying to stop us from going to Mama Lesage. I hope that means that she was able to help Sam. That bitch really wanted us to leave."

"Did you kill it?"

Dean raised his head, looking into her eyes. "No. We would've had to kill you. That wasn't happening." She looked at him, fear still lurking in her eyes, and Dean drew her close again. "Listen. How about I run you a hot bath, you can soak in it for a while. You'll feel better." He kissed her cheek and then, very carefully, her lips. She nodded, and he rose to start the water. Devon buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed with the idea of that evil thing inside her, wishing she could scrub the inside as well as the outside. She frowned a little, wondering how Sam was doing, and reached for her cell phone.

"Nicole? How is Sam? Is he all right?" Dean stood in the doorway listening as Devon waited for Nicole to finish talking, a frown of concern on his face. "How high? Maybe he should get in a cool bath, or shower, try and keep it down a little. Do you want me to send Dean over? Okay. Okay, we'll be over in a little while. Please call us if it gets worse, Nicole, okay? Bye." She looked up at Dean as she spoke. "Nicole says the fever has started. She doesn't think it's too bad yet, but she's giving him aspirin and sponging him down to keep it under control." Dean was still frowning, and she tried to reassure him. "Nicole's taking good care of him, Dean."

After a brief hesitation, he nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure she is. Let's get you in the tub, while the water's still hot." He came to help her walk to the bathroom, guilt eating at him as he watched the misery each step caused her. He turned her towards him, reaching for the hem of her t-shirt and lifting it gently, helping her get her arms out and pulling it carefully over her head. She pulled her panties down a ways, then he bent to slip them the rest of the way down her legs, lifting each foot to remove them. He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on her belly, then stood, taking her hands to help her get into the tub. "Is the temperature okay? It's not too hot?" he asked as he helped her sit down, and she shook her head as she leaned back on the towel he had placed over the back of the tub. She slid down just a little, getting as much of her body under the soothing hot water as was possible, closing her eyes with a sigh. Dean turned his back, angry at himself for his body's reaction to seeing her like that. He had beat her body up to the point she could barely walk, and now he wished he could climb into the tub with her. "I'm going out here and make some coffee. Yell if you want me, okay?"

He left the room, trying to focus on making coffee, getting dressed and straightening the room and the bed. He poured a cup for himself, then one for Devon, and carried them into the bathroom. "Coffee?"

"Mmm, yes! It smells heavenly," she answered, sitting up a little straighter and taking the styrofoam cup from him. "Thank you, Dean." She looked at him, smiling slightly, careful of her swollen lip. She sipped at the hot coffee, inhaling the aroma and savoring it, an almost sensual look on her face, making Dean smile.

"Wow. If coffee gets that reaction, I'll make it for you every morning." A soft giggle escaped her lips, and his smile broadened. "Feeling better?"

"This does help, thanks. It's soaking some of the aches and pains away." Dean sat on the floor near the tub, and they drank their coffee together in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then Devon handed Dean her almost empty cup as she reached for the small bottle of shampoo. She sat upright, wincing a little, then looked at Dean with slight distress on her face. "How am I going to wash my hair like this?"

Dean smiled and stood up. "Just wait a minute. I'll be right back." He left, soon returning with another cup, kneeling once again at the side of the tub. "Close your eyes." He dipped cupful after cupful of water from the tub, pouring them carefully over her hair as she let her head rest back on his other hand. Then he took the shampoo and squeezed it into his hand, lathering her hair, working the suds through the wet strands as Devon practically purred under his hands. "You like that?" he asked, and she sighed softly in answer. He took his time, letting her enjoy it to the fullest, then rinsed her hair thoroughly and laid her back onto the towel again. "Need me to wash anything else?" he asked, with a sexy lilt to his voice that made her want to pull him into the water with her.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" she asked as he leaned over to kiss her softly, and she flinched a little at the twinge of pain from her split lip. "I hate it that I can't kiss you," she whispered, and he put his hand on her face, his thumb gently caressing her jaw for a moment, then he stood.

"Be right back," he said, leaving the room. She could hear him digging around through one of their bags, and he was back after only a few seconds, holding her jasmine-scented body wash in his hand, grabbing a washcloth from the shelf. Then he was on his knees next to her again, and her heart was already pounding at the anticipation of what was coming next. He put a hand on her shoulder, helping her sit up straighter, then lathered the cloth and began washing her back gently, careful of the bruises there. He stopped for a moment, and Devon looked at him. His jaw was working, his eyes full of guilt before he closed them, and she reached out, putting her hand on his arm.

"Dean...you saved my life. Please, please don't look like that. You had to get that evil thing out of me, and you had to keep it from hurting someone." His eyes opened to her quiet pleading, and he sat back on his heels, taking hold of her hand.

"It kills me to see the damage I did, Devon. I should have gotten you that tattoo right away. I should have protected you better."

"Everything is not your responsibility, Dean." She squeezed his hand, and he sat there a minute longer, then leaned in to place a gentle kiss at the corner of her mouth. He went back to his task, rinsing the soap from her back and laying her carefully back against the towel behind her. She closed her eyes as his hands guided the soft, soapy cloth over her wet skin, across her shoulders, down her arms, over her breasts, and she sighed softly as his hands moved beneath the water, his touch causing a small moan deep in her throat. "Dean," she sighed, and then he was rinsing the later from her body as she laid there, his hands gliding over her slick skin, then reaching for her hand.

"Come on, the water's getting cold," he said, his voice a little strained, as he helped her stand, wrapping a large towel around her body and helping her out of the tub. He aided her in drying herself off, and she dropped the towel to the floor, sliding her arms around him, feeling him hard against her as she pressed herself close to him. She reached down and touched the bulge in his jeans, and he closed his eyes, then stepped back from her, turning away. "This wasn't about that, Devon. I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"Dean," she stopped him, putting a hand on his arm. "I know it wasn't. But that doesn't mean it can't end that way, does it?"

He turned back, pulling her into his arms. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." She was gazing up at him with complete trust in her eyes, and he resisted for only a moment before bending to pick her up into his arms and carry her to the bed. He laid her gently down and sat next to her, his lips finding her throat, his head spinning from the taste and fragrance of her soft, jasmine-scented skin. He stood, quickly shedding his clothes, and climbed into bed with her, his lips finding the spot where he had left off, then kissing his way across her shoulder, down her arm to her fingertips. He turned her hand over, kissing the palm, his tongue tickling it briefly before he moved to the other arm.

As he kissed his way over her body, he let his hand trail down her belly and between her thighs. She shivered at his touch, then arched her back, gasping as his fingers found their way home and his tongue teased at her breast. "Dean..." she whispered, almost writhing on the bed as he drove her to the brink. She could feel him, hot and hard, pressing against her leg, and she moaned his name again. "Dean...please..."

He raised his head, and she shuddered, sighing, as he removed his fingers and kissed her neck. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you, Devon," he breathed, "you're so bruised up, I..."

She threw her arms around his neck then, kissing him, ignoring the pain from her injured lip. "You are not going to hurt me. Now get your ass up here before I..."

Before she could finish her sentence, he was above her, pushing slowly inside her, and she cried out softly, already on the edge, trembling as he filled her. As he pulled back, he lowered his head and kissed her neck, biting her gently then kissing her again as she fought for breath. He pushed himself deep inside her again, watching her head roll from side to side, her eyes closed, her lips parted. He bent to touch his lips to hers, careful of her injury, their tongues tangled together as she responded with fiery passion. Her hands grasped at him, her nails raking gently on the skin of his back and sides as he stroked slowly in and out, still kissing her, drinking in her moans of pleasure. When he couldn't bear it any longer, he moved faster, and harder, and soon was thrusting into her with purpose, and she careened over the edge first, driving him more quickly to his own end. He rolled to his back, carrying her with him, and she laid, weak and spent, on top of him.

He caressed her back lightly, very conscious of the injuries there, and ran his fingers through her hair, kissing her forehead, grasping her hand and holding it to his chest. He ran his hand down her back, over her hip, causing her to shiver, and he gave one last shudder as her muscles contracted against him. "See. You didn't hurt me, Dean," she said softly, kissing his chest, then snuggling against him, contented. "I love you."

Dean went back to running his fingers through her hair for a few moments, then his arms surrounded her and he hugged her close. "I love you, too, Devon."

She nuzzled against his chest, not wanting to look at him. "Dean...you don't have to..." She was interrupted by Dean, who rolled her to her side, turning to look into her eyes, his hand on her face.

"I said I love you, Dev. And I mean it." And he kissed her gently, his hand on her face, before gazing back at her once more. "I love you." Devon's eyes overflowed, and he brushed tears away with his fingers, leaning to kiss her eyelids, tasting her tears on his lips.  
Devon snuggled up against him as he pulled the covers up around them. She drifted off easily again, and he cradled her body, wondering how the hell he had gotten himself in so deep.

They had dozed off for an hour or so when Devon's phone rang. She turned to her back away from Dean, reaching for the bedside table, and hit the button. "Nicole?"

"Devon, can y'all come over here? Sam, he's so hot, I don't know what to do..."

"We'll be right over, Nicole. We're coming right now." She hung up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Sam is burning up, Dean. Nicole is scared, she wants us there."

Dean was out of bed and dressed quickly, and Devon wasn't far behind. She pocketed her phone, and took Dean's hand as they left the room, locking it behind them. Dean knocked on the door of Sam's room and Nicole opened it almost immediately. "Dean, I've tried everything. He's so hot."

Dean was at his brother's side before Devon had a chance to move. "Sammy, it's me. Sam." He laid a hand on Sam's forehead, then looked up at Devon, worry clouding his eyes. "Devon, run a cool bath, okay? I'll get him in there." She nodded, heading towards the bathroom. "Nicole, can you help me get him undressed? We've gotta get him cooled down."

Together they managed to get Sam's clothes off, and Dean draped his brother's arm around his broad shoulders, lifting him, an arm around his waist to steady him. Sam was barely conscious, and Dean had to mostly lift and drag him to the tub. Nicole stood in the doorway, tears in her eyes, as Devon helped Dean swing Sam's legs over the edge of the bathtub and lower him into the water. His hazel eyes opened a little as he began to shiver violently, and he muttered, "Dean? What's going on?" His teeth were chattering, and Devon turned away, her eyes filling at the helplessness of the normally full-of-life, healthy man.

"It's the fever, Sam. We're just trying to get the fever down a little, okay?" Dean said, sponging the cool water over Sam's body, and Sam nodded, shaking with cold.

"I hope this works," he managed to get out, and Dean nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, me too, man."

They left him in the water as long as they dared, but finally had to help him out. Nicole brought a towel, helping him dry off as Dean and Devon stepped back into the bedroom. "What do we do, Dean?" Devon asked, reaching for his hand. He absently let her take hold of it, watching Sam as he trembled violently. Nicole led him out of the bathroom, a towel and her arm around his waist, and he collapsed onto the bed. Dean came to his side, putting a hand to his forehead again, then looking up to meet Devon's eyes again. He stood, taking her arm and pulling her with him near the door.

"Devon, I'm going back out and talk to that old woman. There has to be something she can do. She cast the spell, there's got to be a way, and she's gonna tell me." He kissed her forehead and flung the door open, leaving before she could say a word to dissuade him.  
He drove like a crazy man through the darkness, Baby eating up the road ahead and spitting it out in clouds of dust behind them as they sped towards Mama Lesage's trailer. He was out of the car almost before it came to a complete stop, launching himself up the steps and banging loudly on the door. "Hey, are you in there? We need your help!"

After what seemed like an eternity to Dean, the blind woman slowly opened the door. "What you want, boy?"

"My brother...the fever is so high, there has to be something you can do!" Dean demanded, angry desperation in his voice.

"Dean Winchester, you speak to me like that? Who you think you are, boy?"

Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I'm sorry. We need your help. Is there anything you can give me to keep his fever under control? Please." He stared at the old woman, and she finally backed away from the door.

"You come in. I will see what I can do." Dean followed her into the room, his composure hanging by a thread. She turned to him and reached her gnarled hand to touch Dean's face, and he felt almost a surge of electricity enter him through her fingertips. "Ah. You have found your heart. At last." She smiled faintly, then turned away, digging through the vials and pouches on the table in front of her. She turned back, grabbing his hand, and placing a small pouch in his palm. "You mix this powder with water. Give it to him, all of it. He will sleep, for two days. Maybe three. You will not wake him for drink, or for food. Jus' let him sleep. If he does not wake by the end of the third day, you come get me. Now go, give him the powder." Dean hesitated for only a second, then turned to leave, but the old woman stayed him with a hand on his arm, and he turned his head to look at her. "You have found your heart, you guard her well. And your brother, he has found his heart as well, but they do not know it yet. You four, you will fight the evils of this world together."

"You mean...Devon?"

The old woman nodded. "Yes. Devon. She is your heart, Dean Winchester. And you are her heart. That is what I know." She let go of his arm, and he stepped outside, tucking the pouch containing the powder into his pocket. The door closed quietly behind him, and he headed back to the Impala, hoping the old woman's magic would see his brother through his blood-cleansing sickness.


	26. Chapter 26

Dean pulled up to the motel, spraying gravel as he came to a sudden stop, launching himself from the driver's side of the Impala and making his way to the door with long, quick strides. He knocked and was greeted by Devon's worried face on the other side.

"What did she say?" she asked quietly, glancing over to the bed where Nicole sat, gently swabbing Sam's face and neck with a cool cloth, talking softly to him.

Dean pulled the powder from his pocket and handed it to Devon. "She said to mix this with water, and he should drink it all. Then he'll sleep, she said for two days, maybe three. She said not to try and wake him for anything." Devon looked up at Dean as he stared at his brother, tightly controlled fear in his eyes. She put her hand on his face, and he leaned slightly into her touch, his eyes closing for a moment.

"Dean, Sam's going to be okay. We won't let it be any other way." She stood on her toes and kissed him softly, and he pulled her into a tight hug for a moment before letting her go to mix the powder for Sam.

Dean walked over to Nicole, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, her green eyes clouded with worry, as he spoke. "Nicole, why don't you go next door and get some sleep. I'll stay with Sam."

She shook her head, eyes shining with tears, which she deliberately blinked away. "No. You stay if you want, Dean. But I'm not leaving." He looked down at her for a moment, then nodded slowly, bending to drop a kiss on her head.

Devon came to his side, carrying the cup she had prepared for Sam. Nicole stepped back and let Dean help his almost unconscious brother sit upright. "Sam. Sammy, the old woman said you should drink this, all of it. She told me you'd sleep for a couple of days, but it'll help you get through this. Your call." He could feel the heat radiating from Sam's skin, and sent a worried glance Devon's direction.

Sam nodded weakly. "Okay. Worth a shot, right?" He looked at Dean, his eyes fever-glazed, and took the cup from his hands. He took a deep breath, then drank it down, shuddering a little as he finished, and handing the empty cup back to Dean.

"You're gonna be okay, Sam." Sam nodded, seeking assurance from his big brother's eyes, and laid back down. Dean stood, and Nicole took her place beside him again, pulling the sheet up over his chest.

"You will be, Sam. And I'll be right here with you, I'm not going anywhere until you get through this. So you get through this, 'cuz I got things to do," Nicole said, putting a hand on his face, and a faint smile curved his lips.

"Working on it, half-pint," he teased, then let his eyes close. Nicole leaned over and kissed his lips, lingering there for a moment, then raised her head and looked at Dean and Devon. She stood as silent tears trailed down her cheeks, and walked into Dean's arms. Devon joined them, and they stood there by Sam's bedside, arms around each other, for a few moments before Nicole went back to Sam's side. Devon hugged Dean tight, then looked up into his face as he moved his hand beneath her chin, his thumb gently sweeping over the cut on her lip.

He bent his head to kiss her softly. "You need to get some rest. But I can't send you back there alone, not until we have a chance to get you a tattoo for protection." He looked at Nicole, who was back to ministering to Sam. "Nicole, you're gonna need one, too."

"I have one. Sam didn't tell you?" she asked, looking up at him. "My mom made me get one before she died. I didn't know the purpose until I met you two, but...I'm good." She looked back at Dean, then smiled at his raised eyebrow. She stood, raising her t-shirt and pulling down the waist of her jeans till he could see the top half of her tattoo, looking up at his appreciative little smirk. "Satisfied?" He nodded, and Devon smacked his chest playfully at the look on his face.

"What?" he protested, grinning down at her, then sobering quickly as he looked at Sam, who was sound asleep. Nicole yawned widely, and Dean nodded towards the bed. "Why don't you just climb in next to him and get some rest? The old woman said he'll be asleep for at least two days, might as well sleep too. I'm taking Devon back to our room so she can do the same, okay?" Nicole nodded in agreement. Dean and Devon walked to the door, and he turned again as he pulled it open. "Call me if anything changes, Nicole. Anything."

"I will, Dean." She climbed into bed beside Sam, pulling the covers up over herself, lifting his arm and curling up at his side as Dean led Devon out of the room.

* * *

Devon's eyes opened slowly, and she turned to her side, but the bed beside her was empty. She propped herself up on one elbow, and her eyes found Dean sitting at the small table, cleaning his gun. He shot her a lazy, crooked smile.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" he asked, wiping his hands on a rag and standing up, raising his arms over his head and stretching. He came to the side of the bed and sat at the edge, looking down at her for a moment before bending to kiss her.

"I'm okay," she murmured next to his lips, and he kissed her again, his hand sliding alongside her neck and underneath the edge of her t-shirt to caress her shoulder.

"Hungry?"

She sighed a little, enjoying his touch, and nodded. "I am getting hungry. I'm sure Nicole is, too."

Dean smiled. "Well, let's go see how things are going over there, and then we'll run and pick up some food."

They walked next door and tapped lightly, but there was no answer. Dean knocked a little louder the second time, and still no answer, so he pulled the extra key card from his pocket, a worried frown on his brow. Devon followed on his heels as he burst into the room to find Sam still asleep, but Nicole nowhere in sight. Devon called her name quietly, walking into the bathroom to find her friend huddled on the floor near the tub, pale as a ghost, her arms wrapped around her legs, rocking back and forth and crying softly.

"Nicole! What's wrong?" she asked, kneeling down beside her and putting her arms around Nicole's shoulders. "It's okay, we're here. Did something happen? Why didn't you call us?" Dean stood in the doorway, and she looked at him, helplessness on her face.

Dean put a hand on Devon's shoulder, and she stood, letting Dean lift Nicole from the floor and help her to the other room, pulling a chair out for her and helping her sit down. He went to one knee in front of her, bending down to look into her face. "Nicole. Tell us what happened. Let us help." Nicole was visibly shaking, and Dean looked up at Devon. "Dev, grab the bottle of whiskey from our room, would you?" She nodded and rushed to their room, bringing it back quickly and pouring a shot into one of the motel cups. She handed it to Dean, and he coaxed Nicole to take a sip, then another, and finally a little color began to come back into her face. Dean took Nicole's hand, and she finally looked up, meeting his eyes. "What happened, Nicole?" he asked softly.

"Did you have another vision?" Devon asked, and Nicole's eyes raised to meet hers. She nodded slowly, and she met Dean's worried gaze with her own. Dean stood, and Devon grabbed the extra blanket off the end of the bed, wrapping it around Nicole's shivering shoulders. Dean sat in the other chair, and pulled Devon down to perch on his knee, his arm around her waist. "What did you see?" Devon asked gently.  
Nicole finished emptying the cup, setting it on the table and taking a breath before she spoke. "I saw us all die. Well, except me. I was still being strangled by that thing when I came out of it."

"What thing, Nicole?" Dean asked, and Devon felt his tension even though she couldn't see his face.

"That damn yellow-eyed demon." Nicole's eyes were filled with fear as she looked at Dean. "He snapped your neck, Devon. Then he beat you, Dean, you tried to fight him, but he beat you, and beat you, and then you were laying broken on the ground next to Devon. He was furious at Sam, told him he couldn't change what was going to happen anyway, and then he twisted Sam's head around and broke his neck, too. He grabbed me by the throat and said, "You should have stayed out of Wyoming, bitch," before he picked me up off the ground and started choking me. That's when I came to."

"He said Wyoming?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. We were in a graveyard somewhere in Wyoming. That yellow-eyed demon was there, and the tall black man from my first vision, he was there, too. We're all supposed to die in a cemetery in Wyoming. That was not on my bucket list." Nicole stared down at the floor for a moment, then shook her head slowly. "I did not want this. This so-called gift. I was perfectly fine living my life as a normal person." Devon reached out and took Nicole's hand in hers.

"I know how you feel. We could both just be happily oblivious and living our normal unimportant little lives. But we're not, Nicole, and there has to be a reason. You've already saved Sam's life once." Devon stood and put her hand on Nicole's shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and Nicole smiled up at her.

"You're right, I know. I'm just still trying to wrap my mind around this whole thing, girl. I'm fine."

Devon smiled at her again before making her way over to Sam's bedside. She sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to lay a hand on his forehead. He was warm, quite warm, but not as hot as he'd been when they had put him into the tub earlier. His breathing seemed to be even and natural, and Devon leaned over to kiss him gently on the forehead before she stood again. "He still feels warm, but not like he was earlier."

Dean nodded, relief on his face. "Good." He stood, looking down at Nicole. "Our next problem is finding somewhere to get Devon inked up."  
Nicole stood up, shaking her head. "Not around here, Dean. Trust me. Wait until we're back in Sioux Falls."

Dean frowned a little. "Devon needs protection now. That thing's already been in her once."

"Well, I tell you what. You two go get us some food, and pick me up a fine-tip permanent marker. I'll draw one to get her by, if Devon doesn't mind."

Devon gave her a relieved smile. "Could you? I feel like I'm a sitting duck right now, that would make me feel so much better!"

"Sure, I can. Dean can model." Nicole wiggled her eyebrows at him, smirking, and Dean grinned, shaking his head.

Sam sighed and rolled over to his side, catching their attention. Devon put a hand on Dean's arm as he stared, worried, at his little brother. "He seems to be sleeping pretty normally, Dean. Try not to worry, okay?" She stretched up to kiss his cheek, and he stared down at her for a moment, an intense look in his eyes that made her curious. "What?" she said softly, and he smiled a little, shaking his head.

"Nothing. Let's get going."

* * *

Sam continued sleeping peacefully as they shared pizza and beer, and then Nicole sat on the bed and Devon pulled a chair up in front of her.

"Where do you want this, sweetie?" Devon started to remove the long-sleeved shirt she was wearing over a tank top, and a grin lit up Dean's face. Devon rolled her eyes, but she couldn't suppress a smile.

"It's going on my shoulder, Dean," she said, shaking her head, and he looked a little disappointed. "Don't worry, when I get the real one-it's going in the same place Nicole has hers." She looked back up at him to see his eyebrow raise, a gleam in his eyes. The girls giggled, and Nicole readied her pen.

"Well, gorgeous, I wasn't kidding about you modeling. I need to see it if I'm gonna get it right. So strip, and pull up a chair."

Devon turned to give Nicole access to her right shoulder, and Dean pulled up a chair facing Devon, taking off his shirts and laying them at the foot of the bed. He pulled the chair up close to Devon, one knee between hers, his hand resting on her thigh. "Okay, Picasso, get to work."  
It took almost an hour, but when Nicole was done, Devon had a pretty good replica of Dean's tattoo on her shoulder. She turned to show Dean, who nodded, impressed. "Not bad, Nicole. That should work until we can get one done for real." He stood, putting the chair back by the table, and turned. "Now, can I get dressed again?"

Nicole sighed. "If you must," she said with a sad look on her face, and Devon laughed quietly. They shared a couple of drinks together, talking about Sam, about Nicole's vision, trying to figure out what they should do or how they should do it. Finally, after Devon yawned widely, leaning over onto Dean's shoulder, they decided it was time to call it a night.

"Do you want us to stay, Nicole? In case you have another vision?" Devon asked, concern on her face. She did not want her to go through that alone again.

Nicole looked a little worried, but shook her head. "No, I'll be fine. If I do have another one, I promise I'll call you right away. I don't think I will. The others, we had a chance to affect the outcome, and we acted on it. But we haven't had a chance to do anything this time, so maybe it won't come back, because we haven't been able to change anything yet. At least that's what I'm hoping."

Devon gave her friend a hug as they walked to the door. "I hope you're right. Just make sure you do call if something happens, Nicole. We've got to help each other through this."

Nicole nodded, smiling at them both as they went out, then locked the door behind them. She crawled into bed, slipping under the covers, and cuddled up next to Sam, laying her head on his shoulder. He sighed softly, turning towards her and pulling her in closer, his arms tightening around her in his sleep. She smiled, kissing his chest, noticing immediatley the heat in his skin. But he was sleeping comfortably, and it didn't seem extreme, so she pulled the covers up over their shoulders and closed her eyes, glad to be close to him. "Please let him get through this, Lord. He's a good man. And I think I might be falling in love with him, so there's that. Just let this evil be gone from him so he can be free. Thanks, Lord."

* * *

Dean locked the door behind them as they entered their room, then turned to pull Devon into his arms before she had a chance to move. He kissed her softly, then looked down into her eyes, smiling so gently that she frowned slightly, tilting her head to look back up at him.

"Okay, Winchester, spill. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"You keep looking at me like... Are you getting sentimental on me?" She looked up at him, watching a faint, one-sided smile curve his lips.

"I might be. A little." Devon looked puzzled, and Dean kissed her again. "I watched you check on Sammy in there. You really care about him."

"Yes, of course, I do! Sam's been a really good friend to me, and he's your brother. I know how much he means to you, Dean."

Dean brought his hands up to Devon's face, looking at her with such love that she felt tears fill her eyes. "That old woman told me something today. She said I had found my heart."

A tear escaped down Devon's cheek as she gazed back up into the beautiful green depths of Dean's eyes. "Your heart?" she whispered.

"She said you're my heart, Dev. And I'm yours. And that we would fight the evil in this world together. I don't know what happens from here, but I know you and I are going to be together. I love you, Dev." A few more tears had fallen, but Devon didn't even feel them as Dean bent to kiss her with all his heart, and soul, and being. And she responded in kind, pouring her love for him into the kiss, hoping it would never end. When he lifted his head, she held him close as his arms surrounded her, her voice muffled by his chest.

"I love you, Dean. I love you so much. And whatever happens, I'll be there with you."


	27. Chapter 27

"He's still asleep, Dean! What are we gonna do?" Nicole was looking up at Dean with near panic in her eyes. "She said two days..."

"She said two or three, and that if he didn't wake after three, I was supposed to go and get her. Tomorrow morning will be three days. I'll be here early, and if he isn't awake, I'll go get the old lady and she can do her thing." He put a hand on Nicole's shoulder, and she closed her eyes for a moment. "Listen. Sammy's gonna be okay. You hear me?" He stared down at her until she opened her eyes and met his determined green-eyed gaze with her own.

"Yes." She nodded, sighing, then yawning.

"You should just go to bed, Nicole. Get a good night's sleep. In the morning, we'll see how he's doing, and get Mama Lesage if we need to," Devon said softly, giving her friend a hug. "Now, do you want us to stay?"

Nicole shook her head. "No, you guys go get some rest. I'll be fine. Thanks." She yawned again as Dean and Devon turned to leave.

"Call us if you need anything, or if Sam wakes up," Dean said as they left, her soft "I will" following them out the door. They entered their room, exhausted from the sitting around, waiting and worrying. Dean stripped off his flannel shirt, then his t-shirt, and headed for the bathroom. "I'm gonna shower quick, Dev. I'll be there in a few."

Devon got undressed as the shower came on, putting on an old, soft t-shirt from her bag and crawling between the sheets. She sighed as she laid back on the bed, her head sinking into the pillow. She was trying not to worry about Sam, but she understood how Nicole was feeling. "Please let him be awake in the morning," she whispered, closing her eyes.

Dean came out of the bathroom, running his fingers through his still-damp hair. He rolled his head from side to side as he sat down on the bed, trying to loosen the tension in the muscles of his neck and shoulders. He pulled down the covers, swinging his legs underneath, and laying down next to Devon. She was already dozing, her breathing soft and even, and a crooked little smile crossed Dean's face. He leaned down and kissed her lips softly, and her eyes barely opened. "What?" she asked, her eyes trying to close again.

Dean kissed her again, then laid down next to her. "Come here," he whispered, and she turned to him, cuddling up on his shoulder, her leg over his, as he tucked the blankets around them. He kissed her forehead, pulling her close as he sighed deeply and drifted off to sleep.

Nicole rolled over, her arm flopping to the side, and settled back into her pillow. Then her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright in the bed, her heart pounding. Sam was gone.

She jumped out of bed, turning on the bedside lamp, calling his name. "Sam! Sam?" The bathroom door was closed, and she threw it open, coming face-to-face with the tall, naked man just climbing out of the shower. "Sam! Oh my God, Sam," she cried out, flinging her arms around him and clinging to him for dear life, oblivious to the fact that she was getting soaked in the process. Sam put his arms around her, smiling a little in spite of the fact that she was now crying all over him.

"Nicole, it's okay. I'm okay." He held her tight until she had quieted somewhat, then took her gently by the shoulders and pulled her back slightly to look down into her face.

"You're awake, why didn't you get me up? Sam, are you okay? Do you feel okay? Are you sure..."

"Nicole, I'm fine. I was thirsty, I had to pee, and I needed my toothbrush and a shower, that's all. I'm fine." She looked up at him doubtfully, and he smiled, taking her face in his hands. "I promise," he said, then bent to kiss her lips. She clung to him again, shaking in spite of her relief.

"I woke up and you were gone, and I was so scared, Sam. We've been so worried about you. Devon's been feeling your forehead a hundred times a day, and Dean...well, he was going to grab Mama Lesage first thing this morning if you weren't awake. What time is it, anyway?"

Sam smiled at her again as she pulled back to look at him. "Umm, naked man here. Not a clue." Nicole blushed a little at the realization, then grinned at him.

"Yeah. I guess you are."

"And you're wet."

She looked down at her t-shirt, which was soaked through and clinging to her like a second skin. She looked back up at Sam; his eyes were glowing with a predatory light as they took in the sight of her shirt clinging to her breasts. He swept his arm under her legs and picked her up, kissing her as she put her arms around his neck.

He made it through the bathroom door, but stopped at the mirrored vanity counter just outside, setting her down and running his hands up her thighs as she still clutched his neck and their kiss remained unbroken, their tongues exploring wildly. Sam grasped her thighs, gently pulling them apart as he stepped between, pressing up against her, and Nicole whimpered softly.

He pulled his lips from hers, looking down at her and then throwing his head back, teeth clenched and eyes closed, as she ground herself against him. He reached for her shirt, pulling it quickly over her head, both hands reaching for her breasts, thumbs brushing hard across her nipples as she brought her arms down to brace herself against the countertop. Sam bent to cover a nipple with his mouth, sucking hard on it as he tweaked the other, and Nicole cried out, pushing herself almost off the counter, her legs wrapping themselves around him, to thrust against him wildly. When she was almost incoherent, he finally lifted his head, staring down at her flushed face, her eyes closed and lips parted as she fought to breathe. He slid his hands beneath her bottom, slipping his fingers into the top of her panties and sliding them from underneath her, slowly down her thighs and calves, dropping them to the floor. She felt him for only a second at her opening, then gasped loudly as he thrust into her, holding her up against him as she still braced herself on the counter. He drove into her, fast and hard, and she shouted his name as she spasmed around his length and he pounded into her even harder as he reached his own peak.

Nicole reached for his neck again, nipping at his bottom lip and clamping her legs around him as he moved, carrying her to the bed. He turned, sitting down, still hard inside her, and he laid back, pulling her down against his chest as he devoured her lips. Then they heard a pounding at the door, and Dean calling out for them, before the lock disengaged and he came bursting into the room.

"Sam! Nicole?" And then there was silence as Dean stood there, open-mouthed, Devon beside him with the same expression. "Oh, oh, sorry, Sammy, uh..." as he and Devon hastily retreated, slamming the door closed as they left. "Shit," they heard Dean say outside as Nicole looked at Sam, her eyes wide. Then she giggled, and Sam grinned as they looked into each others' eyes. But the heat slowly returned to Sam's eyes, and he pushed himself upward into Nicole's hot core, causing her to clench her teeth and tighten around him.

She bent down again to kiss him, letting her nipples barely graze his chest, and he moaned into her mouth, making her smile a little. His hands were on her thighs, pushing her downward as he held his hips rigid, forcing his hard length as far as possible into her velvety warmth. She moved her hips, just a slight gyration, but he growled and crushed her to himself, his hands sliding up to cup her rear as she swivelled against him, loving the noises he was making into her mouth.

Nicole pulled slowly away from his lips, sitting upright and grinding herself into him, watching as he thrashed his head back and forth on the pillow, his eyes closed, his lip caught between his teeth. She moved again, raking her nails softly down his torso, loving the look of tortured pleasure on his face. She leaned back slightly, reaching back and dragging her nails lightly up the inside of Sam's thighs as he moaned out loud, then raised himself onto his elbows, a feral gleam in his eyes. That look alone was almost enough to send her over the edge again, and then he sat upright and sank his teeth gently into her neck, sucking lightly on the flesh there, moving farther down and doing the same again and again. He finally leaned her back far enough to tease a nipple with his tongue and teeth before sucking it, hard, sending her reeling once again, and she shook with the violence of her orgasm. He growled once again as he flipped her to her back, holding himself off of her as he drove into her, his cries of release echoing with hers through the room as he exploded inside her once again.

He held himself off of her, shaking, for a moment, then bent to kiss her, softly, thoroughly, until he finally collapsed, rolling to his side as he held her tight. He brought a hand to her face as he kissed her, his fingers in her hair, as they both slowly drifted back, heart rates and breathing slowing gradually. He rolled to his back, pulling from her as she made a soft little noise, then pulled her into his arms as she snuggled close. He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin, then tightened his hold on her.

"Nicole?" His voice was quiet, subdued, as his fingers traced a path up and down her arm.

She kissed his chest, loving the feel and smell and taste of him, sighing softly. "Yes?"

"I heard you. The other night. When you were praying."

Nicole froze for a moment, and was glad he couldn't see the blush warming her cheeks. "You did?"

"Is it true?"

"What? Is what true?" she asked a little nervously.

"That you think I'm a good man? And that you're falling in love with me?"

She buried her face in his shoulder for a moment, and he moved to take hold of the hand she had resting on his chest.

"I know you're a good man." She took a deep breath before continuing, then rolled her head back from his shoulder, looking up into his face.

"You don't know half the things I've done in my life, Nicole. I'm not such a good man."

"Oh, yes. You are. You're just gonna have to trust me on this one." She stretched up to kiss him softly, her lips lingering on his. Then she pulled back to look into his hazel eyes, a slight smile curving her lips. "And yes, Sam Winchester, I am falling in love with you. No ifs, ands or buts about that." Sam stared back at her, his eyes unreadable. "That's okay. You don't have to say anything. I'm okay with that. Sooner or later, Sam, you're gonna realize that we belong together. And until then, I guess we'll just continue on the way we are." She leaned in to kiss him, and he responded, his lips caressing hers softly, his thumb stroking her jaw line. When they parted, he spoke quietly.

"We should get dressed and go talk to Dean and Devon. He's probably going crazy over there, waiting for us to call or show up."

Nicole smiled and nodded. "Well, let's go, then." She got up, grabbing clothes from her bag, turning to see Sam still laying there, watching her. "Enjoyin' the view?" she teased, and Sam shot her a lopsided grin as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I hope you are, because I sure am." Sam's dimples deepened as he grabbed his clothes, and they dressed together. Nicole reached for the door, but Sam put his arms around her from behind, and she turned to face him, looking up into his face. He brushed hair from her face and bent to kiss her before he spoke, his eyes soft.

"Thank you, Nicole," he said, his lips curving in a gentle smile. She smiled back, dropping her gaze shyly, and then looking back up at him, a little smirk on her face.

"You can thank me again later, if you want," she said archly, then turned and opened the door.

They knocked on Dean and Devon's door, and it was snatched open almost immediately. They entered the room, and Dean grabbed his brother's shoulders, looking intently into his face. "Sammy? Are you really okay?"

Sam nodded, smiling. "Yeah, Dean. I'm okay."

Dean heaved a sigh of relief, half laughing as he turned away. "Well, I saw a side of you that I've never seen before today, Sammy." He turned, his eyes flicking over Nicole as he smirked. "Not to mention you, sweet cheeks."

Devon shook her head, smiling, as Nicole returned his smirk. "Maybe next time you should wait for a 'come in' before you bust in on someone."

"Maybe next time you'll give us a call and let us know things are all right before you start yelling my brother's name." He was still smiling, but there was a layer of steel in his voice, and Nicole's smile faded slowly.

"I'm sorry, Dean. We should have called. But things escalated a little faster than we expected. I didn't mean to scare you." She stared back into his eyes, unflinching; and he finally nodded. They both took a deep breath and relaxed, and Devon walked into Sam's arms, holding him tight.

"We were really worried about you, Sam," she said as he bent to kiss her cheek, smiling at her as she blinked tears from her eyes. Then he pulled her close again, and looked up at his brother.

"So what now, Dean? Where do we go from here?"

"Nicole didn't tell you?"

Sam grinned. "We haven't really talked much. Yet."

Dean grinned back. "Well, long story short, Nicole had another vision. Happened in Wyoming. So right now, we're heading back to Sioux Falls to have Bobby help with some research. Once we figure out the location, we're heading to Wyoming. To kill the yellow-eyed son of a bitch that started this whole thing."

Sam dropped his arms to his sides and Devon stepped back, letting Dean's arm settle around her shoulders. "Yellow eyes?" Sam asked, and Nicole nodded.

"That's what I saw, Sam. That yellow-eyed demon killing us off, one by one. But we're not gonna let that happen, are we, Dean?"

Dean shook his head, lifting his chin defiantly. "No, we're not."

Sam looked from Nicole to Dean, and back again, then nodded. "Okay. What are we waiting for?"


	28. Chapter 28

"Sam? Any more headaches? Or visions?" Dean asked as they headed into the motel for the night. They had stopped at St. Joseph, Missouri, about halfway back to Sioux Falls and the closest thing Sam and Dean had to a home.

"Dean, I told you. I'm fine. Stop fussing over me like an old woman," Sam grumped, and Nicole slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Sam Winchester! Is that any way to treat someone who cares about you?"

"Yeah, Sam, is that any way to treat your big brother?" Dean wore a smartass smirk on his face as he grabbed their bags from the trunk, and Sam shot Nicole a crestfallen glance.

"You're supposed to be on my side, you know," he muttered, and she smiled up at him apologetically.

"Darlin', I am on your side. But I'm on his side, too. He just wants to make sure the hoodoo worked, that we didn't waste our time and risk your life for nothing. And to do that, you need to make sure you're honest with us and tell us if any of the old vision stuff starts happening again."

"I know. And I will. And no, no more headaches or visions, Dean. I'm okay."

Devon grabbed her bag from Dean and spoke to him softly. "Dean, please... Just lay off a little, okay? He'll tell us if there's something going on."

Dean turned to Devon, and the slight frown furrowing his brow faded slowly away, replaced by a slight smile as he looked down into her eyes. "Okay, Dev, I'll try." She stretched up to kiss him, her lips clinging to his for a long moment, then turned and headed to the room. Dean watched her open the door and enter, still amazed at the warmth she could evoke in him without even consciously trying. He looked up to see Sam watching him, a half-smile on his face, and he couldn't help but return it. "Shut up, Sammy," he said, and Sam laughed quietly as they carried their bags to their rooms.

They found a little bar and grill not far away, and went to order some food and share a couple of drinks before turning in for the night. They quietly discussed their plans as they ate, thankful that the place was relatively empty.

"We have a problem, Dean. The only thing that can kill that son of a bitch is the Colt. And it's gone."

Dean looked up, his face thoughtful. "I know, Sam. But there's gotta be some way."

"We haven't talked about it, but... there might be something more I can remember from my vision, if I just focus and think about it." Nicole spoke softly, fear in her eyes at the thought of revisiting that horror. "I've tried not to think about it. But maybe there's more to it that would help us, besides Wyoming."

Sam reached over, taking her small hand in his huge one. "We'll figure it out, Nicole. It's okay."

"What happened to the Colt?" Devon asked, and the looks on the guys' faces made her wish she could suck the words back in. She reached to put a hand on Dean's arm, self-reproach on her face. "I'm sorry, Dean. Never mind. I shouldn't..."

"Forget it," he said quietly, and stood from the table. "You guys ready?"

The others stood as Dean went to pay the bill, Devon trying to hide the tears in her eyes. She headed out the door, and Nicole looked up at Sam, sympathy clear on her face. "Sam..."

"Dean will talk to her when we get back, Nicole. She'll be okay." He put an arm around her as they headed out to the Impala. Dean joined them shortly, firing up the engine without a word, and they drove in silence the short distance to the motel. Nicole went to Devon's side as they got out of the car, hugging her before they headed to their separate rooms. Devon made a brave attempt at a smile as Nicole turned away and squeezed her hand in parting.

Dean followed Devon into the room, walking immediately to the mini-fridge to grab a beer. He opened it, tossing the lid into the trash, and Devon fought tears as she waited for him to speak. He remained silent, and he didn't turn around, and finally Devon walked up behind him, putting her arms around his waist, laying her face against his back. He covered her hands with his free hand, squeezing gently, and her tears won the battle, falling freely and wetting the back of Dean's henley.

He set his beer on the table and turned slowly to face her. She looked up, silently surprised to see a tear rolling down his cheek. "I'm sorry, Dean," she said, her face crumpling as she went into his arms, crying softly. "I never meant..." Dean's lips silenced her as he kissed her with all the pent-up emotion in him, and her arms rose to cling to his neck as she forgot the rest of the words she had been about to say.

She pulled back from him, looking into his eyes, still smarting from the pain she had seen there, and reached to touch his face. He closed his eyes for just a moment, then took a breath and moved her towards the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling her onto his lap, surrounding her with his arms and burying his face in her neck. He held her tight, and she held him close with one arm, the other cradling his head, running her fingers through his hair.

"Dean," she said softly, "I love you. And if you don't want to talk about it, it's okay. But I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere, no matter what you say. Just so you know."

Dean lifted his head and looked at her for a split second before holding her close and capturing her lips with his again, this time seductively, teasing at her with his tongue, his hand sliding down her back, then up underneath her shirt to touch her skin. She kissed him back warmly, shivering slightly as his fingers played across her skin and up her back, pressing her against his chest. He held her tightly, laying them both back onto the bed.

Dean broke their kiss long enough to slip Devon's shirt over her head, rolling her to her back, then lowered himself down to capture her lips again, a little harder this time. When he raised his head again, he stared down at her with a look that made her catch her breath, as he lifted her hands above her head, then ran his hand down her side, his touch feather-light, making her shudder. Then he bent to nuzzle her neck, his teeth nipping at her and sending goosebumps over her body. He finally released her hands as he moved farther down, but she was almost unable to lift them anyway. He was undressing her slowly as he worked his way down her body, and sensation flooded through her as his hands and lips and tongue worked their magic.

When Dean finally stood to get undressed, Devon felt as if she had lost the power of speech, and Dean had sent her over the edge twice already. He climbed back onto the bed, hovering over her, kissing her and sucking gently on her bottom lip as he cupped her breast, slowly entering her as she moaned softly. He made love to her at a slow, sensuous pace, letting the passion build in her once again, holding himself back with some effort as he watched her expression change at his every move, every touch. When he could sense the tension building in her, he picked up the pace, driving himself in to the limit with each stroke, finally exploding almost violently with a low growl as Devon, whimpering, joined him. He lowered himself over her, kissing her lips, savoring their softness, and finally rolled to his side, pulling her with him. She clung to him in the shelter of his arms, dozing off almost immediately, exhausted and sated beyond anything she had ever experienced.

Dean held her close, his face in her hair, his eyes closed. He had just bared his soul to her, in the best way he knew how, and he hoped that, somehow, she knew that. "I love you, Dev," he whispered as she snuggled closer, sighing in her sleep. "I'm sorry. I should have told you about Dad."

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, battling the pain and guilt that threatened to engulf him at the thought of his father and the deal he had made to save his son's life. The Colt had been part of that deal, he knew it, as well as John Winchester's life, and his soul. His father was in Hell because of him, and Yellow-Eyes had the Colt, he knew that deep down. And if that was the only thing that could kill him... He finally drifted off to sleep, those thoughts swirling endlessly in his mind.

Devon woke the next morning, still held tightly in Dean's arms. She shifted a little, putting her hand to his face, stroking a finger along his stubbled jaw line, still in awe of at the sweet, gentle way he had loved her the night before. She had felt completely cherished by him, and any doubts about his love for her had gone. She felt a tremor go through her body at the memory of his touch, even as tears threatened to fill her eyes as she thought about how he had almost reverently made love to her, and how tender and passionate he had been. He was still holding her as if he was afraid of her leaving his side. She stared at his face as she caressed his cheek, loving every detail, from the freckles across his nose and his full, soft lips to his long, thick lashes, which began to move a little as he woke slowly. She stared into his moss green eyes as they opened, a slight smile curving his lips as he looked at her.

"Morning." His voice was raspy from sleep, and Devon leaned closer to kiss him.

"Hey. How did you sleep? Because I slept like the dead, thanks to a very sexy hunter I know."

Dean shifted, turning on his side to face her, still keeping his arms around her. "Oh, really. So what's this guy's name? I'm gonna have to kill him, you know."

"I think you know him pretty well. Winchester, I believe."

Dean snorted softly. "Oh. That guy. Bad news, I heard."

Devon's thumb was tracing his jaw line again. "Best thing that ever happened to me." Dean's eyes had that look again, the pain he was trying to keep at bay, and she kissed him softly again. "Dean, it's okay. Last night, at the restaurant... It's okay."

Dean kept his gaze down, refusing to meet her eyes. "No, Dev, it's not okay. It's never been okay. But I need to tell you." He rolled to his back, one arm flung over the top of his head, but with the other he still held her close to his side. She put her arm over him, her head on his shoulder, and waited patiently for him to speak. "A few months before..." He stopped for a moment, and Devon dropped a kiss on his skin, determined not to interrupt his thoughts. "A few months before what happened with your dad...my dad, Sam and I were in an accident." He was quiet for so long that Devon looked up at him, concerned.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I know your dad didn't make it. Dad told me."

"No, he didn't die from the accident, Dev. I did."

"What?!" She started to sit up, but Dean held on to her, continuing.

"I should have died. I would have. But my dad, he made a deal with the yellow-eyed demon. He gave up the Colt, and his soul, to save me. See, part of my injuries were from before the accident. Dad was possessed by that son of a bitch. And he was killing me. Sam shot him in the leg with the Colt, but he couldn't make himself take the kill shot. That would have killed the demon, too. And when Sam was driving Dad and I to the hospital, we got t-boned by a semi. The driver was possessed by a demon. Sam threatened it with the Colt, and it smoked out." Devon held Dean as tightly as he was holding her, her heart breaking for him as he told her his story, agony in his tightly controlled voice. He paused for a moment, finally getting himself back under control. "Anyway, that's where the Colt is. That yellow-eyed bastard has it. And as far as we know, that's the only way to kill it."

Devon laid there quietly as Dean lowered his other arm and surrounded her. She had tried not to cry, but his heart-wrenching story had been too much, and she brought her hand to her face, brushing away tears. "I'm sorry, Dean," she whispered, and he squeezed her a little in answer. They laid there in silence until Sam called Dean's phone to ask if they were ready to leave.

Conversation was at a minimum on the rest of the drive to Sioux Falls, and the atmosphere was subdued. Sam and Nicole talked quietly to each other, and Dean focused mostly on the road, glancing at Devon every once in a while with a half-hearted smile. They made one stop to fill the Impala, and Devon leaned on the back of the car as Dean hunkered down to fill the tank. She smiled at him as he looked up at her, and his eyes lingered on her as he smiled in return. She knew he wasn't in a talking mood, so just let the silence lie comfortably between them, stepping into his embrace as he straightened and put the nozzle back on the pump. He kissed her, his hand in her hair, before turning to go inside to pay for the gas.

She got back into the car, aware of Sam and Nicole's eyes on her. She turned to smile towards the back seat, speaking softly. "Everything's okay, guys. But he just shared some pretty big stuff with me this morning, and it's weighing heavy on him. He just needs some time." Sam gave her a tight little smile, his eyes sympathetic; he knew what Dean had told her, and he wished with everything he had that he could change things, and make Dean see that it wasn't his fault. But his big brother was good at the guilt game, and all they could do was let him ride this out. Killing that demon would go a long way towards making both of them feel better, if they could only figure out how to do it.

Dean got back into the car, handing out sodas for everybody, then put his arm on the back of the seat and motioned with his head for Devon to slide over next to him. She smiled and did just that, sighing contentedly as she snuggled on his shoulder. As she put her hand on his thigh, he caught his breath a little and the look in his eyes made Devon blush as he squeezed her shoulder. She caught herself wanting to slide her hand up farther, but she knew he needed to focus on the road, and instead laid her head back on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He looked down at her and took a deep breath, resolutely staring down the road as he whispered to her. "If we were alone right now, we'd be parked on a country road somewhere, you know that, don't you?"

A little smirk curved her lips as she whispered back, "Oh, I know."

Before another hour had passed, they were pulling into Bobby's yard, passing underneath the Singer Salvage sign. The guys grabbed their gear from the trunk and they all headed to the house together.

"Bobby! Hey, Bobby," Sam called out as they dropped their duffles in the kitchen and walked towards the living room.

"I'm right here, ya idjits," Bobby answered, turning from the bookshelf behind the desk. Sam gave him a crooked grin, and Bobby leveled a stare at him. "Well? Did you see the hoodoo woman or not?"

"Yeah, Bobby. And I think it worked. I haven't had a headache or a vision since I went through her cure or whatever it was. I really think it worked." Nicole looked down for a moment, a little misty-eyed, as Bobby and Sam hugged, clapping each other on the back. Bobby backed away, blinking hard, nodding his head as he slapped Sam's shoulder. "I'm real glad, son."

Sam smiled and nodded, and then reached back behind him for Nicole. "Bobby, this is Nicole. She's..."

"Well, if it ain't little Reb."

"Well, Bobby, what the hell!" Nicole said, grinning. "I didn't know this was your place!" She hugged Bobby and laughed a little at Sam's surprise. "Oh, I've known Bobby for a long time, he eats at Hazel's all the time."

"No wonder I haven't seen you lately, you went and got yourself tied up with this idjit. Didn't your mama teach you better?"

"Hey!" Sam protested as Dean and Devon walked in, and Devon went to give Bobby a hug in greeting.

"Dean." Bobby nodded at him, and Devon smiled to herself at the affection in his eyes. "Sounds like the trip was well worth it."

"Seems like it, Bobby. Now if we could just kill that son of a bitch once and for all, I'd say we could really call this a stellar year." Dean walked over and leaned back on Bobby's desk. "We've got some research and some planning to do, Bobby. Can you help?"

"Can they make bourbon in Kentucky?" Dean gave the older man a lopsided grin. "Speaking of which, if that hoodoo worked, we should have ourselves a shot of Johnny Walker Blue to celebrate. Devon? Reb? Are you in?"

Dean and Devon looked, confused, at Nicole, who waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, he's called me that ever since he first heard my accent. Apparently everybody down south is considered a rebel in this old coot's mind."

"Harder than hell to get any respect around here," Bobby muttered as he fetched the bottle and glasses, setting them on the desk in front of him.

"Hey, I didn't say you weren't a lovable old coot," Nicole fired back, smiling, and Bobby eyes sparkled as he grinned back at her.

Once they each held a glass, Bobby held his aloft, and his face grew sober. "Here's to Sam getting his life back. Here's to us killing the demonic son of a bitch that messed it up in the first place. And here's to justice for Mary, and John, and Jessica."

Devon downed her glass of whiskey with the rest of them, watching Dean's tortured eyes as he did the same. She set her glass down on the desk and went to him, holding him tight as his arms surrounded her. Maybe if they really could kill this thing, Dean and Sam could both have a little peace. Maybe their wounds could finally begin to heal. She closed her eyes as Dean held her close, hoping they would find the answers they needed here.


	29. Chapter 29

"This is no good, I'm not helping at all!" Nicole jumped up off of the couch and walked into the kitchen, Sam shooting a concerned look towards Devon as she followed her friend.

"Nicole, don't be so hard on yourself! You're doing the best you can."

"Every time I really focus on that vision, it just freaks me the hell out, and I can't do it. I don't know how to get past it, Devon. I need to, I need to see everything. Our lives might depend on it!" She looked at Devon, tears in her eyes, and Devon reached for her hand.

"We do the best we can, and that's all we can do." She looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway, and she smiled a little sadly at him. She put a hand on his arm as he came closer, sitting down at the table and pulling Nicole down onto his lap. She put her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder as he talked softly to her, and Devon left the room to give them some privacy.

"Is she all right?" Dean asked a little gruffly. Devon nodded.

"She's trying, Dean. But we have no idea what it's like. She watched us all die, just like it was really happening, and we're asking her to do it over and over again, looking for little details..."

"I wouldn't ask her to do it if it wasn't important."

"I know that, Dean, but..."

"We all have to do things that are rough, Dev." Their eyes fired daggers at each other, but Devon bit back the scathing remark that had been at the tip of her tongue.

"Yes, Dean. We do," she finally answered, then turned and stalked from the room, heading through the kitchen and out the door as Sam watched. Dean followed right behind her, and Sam frowned a little at his brother's angry face, but got only a tight-lipped stare as he went by.

"Devon!" Dean's voice rang out, stopping Devon just as she was about to enter the shop. She stood there for a second before continuing into the building, and Dean clenched his teeth as he followed. "Devon, what is your problem?"  
She whirled to face him, her eyes wide, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "What is my problem? I'm sorry, Mr. Hard Ass, everybody needs to be a good soldier, right? They should suck it up and bury all their feelings so they can get the job done. Plenty of time for all those pesky emotions later." She turned away again, but Dean's grip on her shoulder stopped her from taking a step. "Let go of me," she said, her voice low and angry, but instead, he turned her roughly around and grabbed her by both shoulders.

"We're back to that again, aren't we? Back to me shooting your Dad. Are we ever getting past that, Devon?"

"We're not back to that, Dean! That's why I couldn't say anything in there, because you always assume that's what it's about! It has nothing to do with that!" She jerked free from his hands and marched farther back into the shop, bracing her hands on the top of the workbench, trying to get control of her temper. She felt him move up right behind her, and she squeezed her eyes closed, determined not to turn around and look at him.

"Really. Then tell me, what's it about, Devon?" He didn't touch her, but stood so close she could feel the heat from his body. She hung her head a little, giving herself a few breaths before answering.

"It's about how you think everyone can shut off their feelings. You have been doing this your whole life, Dean. You can turn it on and off like a light switch, I swear. But most people can't. And Nicole, she's not used to any of this, let alone a gift that she just learned about a few weeks ago."

"You think I can just shut off my feelings? That's how you see me?"

"Right now, yeah. Right now, all you care about is killing that yellow-eyed demon, and God help anyone or anything that gets in your way. You're treating Nicole like a...like a weapon or something!" She turned, her back against the workbench, and glared up into his angry face. "She's doing the best she can, Dean!" He rolled his eyes at that, and she snapped, slapping his face, and then drawing her hand back, shocked at herself. She stared for a moment at her hand, then looked up into his face, her eyes wide. "I'm sorry, I..."  
She didn't have a chance to utter another word as he pinned her against the workbench, his lips slamming into hers as he gripped her arms tight. She struggled for only a split second, then with a moan she answered his violent passion with her own. He was crushing her back against the bench, but she barely felt the pain; all she could feel was the heat searing through her, and his arousal hard against her belly.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it ended. He held his hands out to his sides, stepping back away from her, his chest heaving as he looked down at the floor. He turned to take a step towards the door, but before he could take a another, she grabbed his arm, spinning him around. Her arms clamped around his neck and she kissed him, hard, shocking him for a moment before his arms came around her with a vise-like grip. He buried one hand in her hair, forcing her head back as he pulled his lips from hers and bit at her neck, causing her to cry out, then moan as he sucked on the soft flesh there.

He raised his head, looking at her as if he wanted to eat her alive. He grabbed her shirt, ripping it apart, sending buttons flying both directions, then grabbed her and lifted her into his arms, her legs around his waist, as he buried his face between her breasts. She hung on to his shoulder with one arm, her other hand grasping his hair, gripping his waist with her legs as she fought to press herself close. As he looked up again, he moved quickly to the side of the workbench, setting her down at the edge and reaching for the button and zipper on her jeans. His eyes held a savage light as he stared at her, pulling her jeans and panties from her body, dropping them on the floor, and reaching for his belt.

When he had freed himself, he stared into her eyes, which held a heat that matched his own. He lifted her from the bench, and Devon cried out as he drove into her, then moving to hold her against the wall as she clung to him, biting his shoulder to keep from crying out loudly enough to bring attention from someone in the house. Their bodies slammed together, Devon crushed against the wall, and she bit her lip until it almost bled fighting to keep from screaming as she came, her head thrashing about and her legs squeezing Dean so tight it hurt. The spasms at her core sent him into a frenzy, and he soon erupted into her, an animalistic snarl escaping his lips as he pounded out his release.

He took a couple of shaky steps and sank down onto an old chair nearby, Devon's legs still clamped tight around him, and she shuddered once more with the aftershock of her orgasm, collapsing against him, her head on his shoulder. He leaned his head back against the wall, unable to speak or move for the moment, and Devon rested against him, in much the same condition.

Several minutes later, Devon finally lifted her face from Dean's shoulder, and he looked up at her, his eyes still a little glazed. He took her face in his hands and drew her close, kissing her gently, his tongue caressing her lips and entering as she parted them with a soft sigh. He looked into her eyes as he pulled back slightly, his thumbs lightly stroking her skin. "Sorry about your shirt," he said, and she smiled, looking down as a warm blush colored her cheeks.

"Don't worry about it. It's just going to be embarrassing to go back inside." She moved slightly, and Dean sucked a breath in through his teeth.

"If you don't get up, we may be doing round two, so..."

"So, I'd better get up," Devon said softly, leaning down to drop a kiss on his cheek. She stood, catching her breath as she pulled away from him, and went to grab her clothes, slipping her panties on as Dean watched, shaking his head as she glanced back at him.

"Damn, woman, you do not make it easy."

"Make what easy?"

"Not jumping your bones 24/7, that's what." She sent a sexy little smirk over her shoulder at him, then bent to pick up her jeans, and Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head again. Once she was dressed and Dean managed to rearrange his clothes, they headed for the door of the shop. "Do you want me to go grab you a shirt?"

"Nah, I'll just hold it together, grab my bag and go take a shower. They'll never know."

They walked to the house, and stopped to give each other the once-over before going in the door. Devon reached up and mussed Dean's hair a little where it was sticking up funny, and he smoothed hers down in the back, then they walked in together. Sam and Nicole were gone from the kitchen, so Devon headed through to the bathroom, snagging her bag from the hall on her way. Dean grabbed her hand as she went to leave, pulling her close and sliding his hand into her open shirt and along her waist as he kissed her. She looked up at him, her smile shining in her eyes, before she fled to the shower.

Dean walked back through the kitchen and into the living room, where Sam and Nicole sat on the couch. Sam shot him a disapproving look as he walked in, and Dean rolled his eyes. "What?"

"I hope you weren't a total ass to Devon, Dean. She's just worried about Nicole."

"Devon and I are fine, Sammy." He looked down at Nicole, and she gazed back at him, unintimidated. "Nicole, sorry about riding you so hard. I know it's not easy."

Nicole stared back at Dean for a moment, then nodded. "It's okay, Dean. I know how important this is. And I've got an idea."  
Dean planted himself on the edge of the coffee table. "What's that?"

"We get a hypnotist. They can put me out, keep me calm so I can get through it and see the details."

Dean's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Good idea. Do we know one?"

"Bobby said the sheriff's department has used one before. We can call them for a name. What do you think?"

"Sounds like a great plan to me." Nicole smiled at him, and Dean gave her a crooked grin in return.

After several phone calls, and waiting for returned calls, they finally made an appointment for the next day at the hypnotherapist's office. It was past ten when Dean and Devon dropped Sam and Nicole off at her house, and they went in to meet her very happy dog.

"Puddles! I missed you, boy!" She got down on the floor and buried her face in the shaggy dog's neck, and accepted his welcoming kisses.

Sam shook his head, smiling. "Puddles? Seems like a bad name to give a dog."

Nicole grinned as she stood. "Well, he had a bit of a problem in that area when he was a pup. But the name stuck." She fed and watered him, talking to him the whole time, which made Sam smile. "Aunt Hazel took good care of you, didn't she? I'll give her a hug for you when I see her."

They cleaned up and got ready for bed shortly after that, and Sam went in to brush his teeth. When he came out of the bathroom, Nicole was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hand on the back of her neck, rubbing at the knots there. He sat down next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Why don't you lay down, let me give you a back rub. You've had a stressful day."

"We've all had a stressful day, Sam." She looked up into his hazel eyes and smiled. "But I won't say no."

She crawled up onto the bed and stretched out on her tummy, a pillow under her head. Sam got onto the bed beside her, then straddled her body, sitting back on his heels as he moved her hair out of the way and pushed his hands gently up the length of her back to her shoulders. He did that several times, and Nicole sighed, completely relaxing under his touch. He very gently kneaded the muscles of her neck and shoulders, making ever widening little circles and working the tension out as she almost purred under his touch. After fighting with her camisole repeatedly, he finally lifted the hem and pulled it towards her head. "This would be a lot easier if you took this off," he said softly, helping her get the top over her head, laying it aside. Then he began working on her lower back, his huge hands on her hips, working the muscles just above with his thumbs. When he had worked his way over her back, neck and shoulders, he ran his hands lightly up her back and across her shoulders, sliding them down her arms. She sighed, completely relaxed and content, and Sam bent to place a soft kiss at the base of her neck, then closer to her shoulder, and she made a small noise.

He kissed her again, lingering a little longer this time, his tongue playing across her soft skin, and this time Nicole made a definite noise of appreciation. A smile curved his lips as he continued his way across her back, then moved down, and by the time he reached her waist, she was moaning softly and squirming under his touch. He slipped his hand up between her legs, and ran his fingers along the edge of her panties, sliding a finger under the edge to feel the warm moisture there, and smiling again as she moaned louder still. "Sam..." she whispered, then gasped softly as he slid two fingers home and she writhed under his touch. He played for a time, sending her into a pleasure-induced euphoria, then stopped, pulling her panties off and then removing his boxers.

He turned her over and looked into her face, lowering himself down to kiss her lips, a sensuous caress that soon moved down her body to her breasts, where he lingered for some time, and then lower. He kissed his way down her belly, nibbling at her hip bone, and tortuously made his way to his goal. As his mouth touched her, she cried out his name, and Sam's hands cupped her bottom as he held her in place, sparking an intense explosion in her senses as she gripped fistfuls of the sheet, coming hard. She didn't move as he kissed his way back up her body, pulling her legs up around his waist and smoothly entering her, pushing himself in to the limit, then just holding himself above her, looking down as her eyelids fluttered open. He moved a little, and she threw her head back into her pillow, and Sam fought to control himself, bending to nibble at her neck. He moved again, and her arms came up to grasp at him, and this time he knew she was ready, her legs gripping him and her nails digging into his shoulder, urging him on. He began slowly, but his restraint was gone, and soon he hit his rhythm, propelling them both quickly to sweet oblivion. Rolling to his back, he pulled her with him, cradling her on his chest, kissing her face gently, his hands in her hair. She tilted her head back and he captured her lips, kissing her while they both came down, one hand caressing her back and bottom, and then they both finally laid their heads down and dozed for a moment.

When Nicole moved to snuggle up to Sam's side, he shuddered a little, a small moan escaping his lips. Then he pulled her close against him, his fingers stroking gently up and down her back. She kissed his chest, smiling to herself, and sighed contentedly, throwing one leg up over his and cuddling up as close as she could get to his warmth. He reached for the covers and pulled them up, then reached a finger to her chin, tilting her head back to kiss her lips. He stared down at her for a long moment in the dim light, and she smiled gently at him. "Nicole... I'm falling in love with you, too." He kissed her again, and she smiled up at him before he tightened his arms around her again, and they both gave in to sleep.


	30. Chapter 30

"Are you sure, Nicole?" Sam asked softly as they sat in the waiting room at the Sioux Falls Mental Health Clinic. She smiled up at him a little nervously, her eyes softening as she read the concern in his hazel eyes. "You don't have to do this."

"I do, Sam." Nicole leaned over onto his shoulder. "I have to try, I have to see if there's something else that can help us." Sam was giving her that puppy dog eyes look that melted her, and she sighed as he leaned down to kiss her. The receptionist peeked around the door just then, and her voice made them jump.

"Nicole? The doctor will see you now." The woman gave them a pleasant smile, and they stood to follow her back to the office. She opened the door, ushering them in, and closed it behind them.

"Nicole, I'm Dr. Randall. I take it you want your friend here?"

"Sam, Dr. Randall." Sam stuck his hand out and the doctor shook it firmly.

"You want Sam here during the session?"

Nicole nodded nervously. "Yes, I do. Definitely."

The doctor motioned towards a couple of chairs in front of his desk, and they sat down. Nicole was nervously biting at her lip, and Sam reached to take her hand.

"So, Nicole, what can I help you with?"

She took a shaky breath before speaking softly. "I've been having a dream. A recurring dream. And it scares me, puts me in a panic, so I can never get through it and get over it. I thought, maybe, you could help me be able to see it calmly. To see details that might make it go away. For good."

"Okay. I can put you under, walk you through it. Do you want to lie down, or..."

"No. If you don't mind, I'd like to sit on the couch and I want Sam beside me. Will that work?" Nicole looked at the doctor, her eyes worried.

"Of course. Whatever makes it easier for you."

They went to the couch in a little windowless area of the room, where distractions would be at a minimum. Nicole sat down next to Sam, and he smiled gently down at her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Are you comfortable, Nicole?" the doctor asked as he took a seat in front of her. She nodded, her eyes showing her fear. "Nicole, nothing can hurt you here, you understand that, right? We are going to go somewhere in your mind that frightens you, but it can't truly hurt you. You are safe here."

She nodded hesitantly, and Sam tightened his hold on her slightly. Dr. Randall went through the process, talking calmly as she watched the pen in his hand. She felt warm and drowsy, and relaxed, and then it was dark, but she could still hear the doctor's voice.

"Nicole, look around and tell us where you are."

She opened her eyes and found herself outside an old wrought iron fence, near a tall, open gateway. She looked up beside her, and saw Sam, gun drawn, tensely surveying their surroundings. "I'm at an old cemetery. I'm walking through the gate."

"Who is with you, Nicole?"

"Sam is with me, and Dean and Devon are ahead of us. Bobby and another woman are behind us."

"What are you doing there?"

"We need to kill the yellow-eyed demon."

The doctor glanced at Sam, who kept his face expressionless, then back to Nicole. "Nicole, just go through your dream, tell me what's happening, everything you see."

Nicole began to speak quietly, describing the dead trees, broken and cracked old tombstones, and a large crypt at the far end of the cemetery. "We're hiding behind the stones, and the tall black man who killed Sam just walked by. He has a gun in his hand. It's the Colt." Sam looked at her, his heart rate picking up a little as she continued. "He's walking to the crypt and reaching out to put the barrel of the gun into the lock." Nicole frowned, and began to shake a little. "Sam is talking to him, holding his gun on the man." Sam could feel Nicole begin to tremble, and whispered at the doctor.

"Hey, doc, she's getting scared." Dr. Randall nodded in reply.

"Nicole, remember, you are safe. Whatever you see, it is not real. You are in your dream, and nothing you are seeing is real. Do you understand?"

"Yes." She took a deep breath before continuing. "The man with the Colt is telling the woman with Bobby to point her gun at her head. She doesn't want to, but she can't stop. He's telling everyone else to drop their guns. They're doing it." She was visibly trembling now, and the doctor stopped once again to reassure her, then told her to continue. "Now he's putting the gun into the lock on the crypt. The lock is spinning, and now Sam... Sam is shooting him..." She was crying softly now, but not hysterical, and the doctor urged her on.

"Nicole, remember, this is a dream. No one is really getting hurt. No one is really going to hurt you. Do you understand?"

Nicole nodded. "Yes, I understand." She reached blindly over towards Sam, and he took her hand in his. "Dean... Dean is grabbing the Colt from the lock, and we're running away, the crypt doors are opening." Her voice was wavering, but she continued talking. "The woman, she's shouting, huge clouds of black smoke are coming out of the door. She's telling us that it's a devil's gate, a doorway to hell. Dean is turning around, and the yellow-eyed demon is behind him. He's taking the Colt away. He's throwing Dean to the ground. Devon is running to help him, but the demon is grabbing her, and he's snapping her neck." She was breathing hard now, small panicky sounds escaping as she continued. "And he's going back after Dean. Dean, run! No! He's fighting, but the demon is beating him. And beating him. Oh, make him stop, someone make him stop!"

"Nicole, try to stay calm. Try to reach the end."

"Sam! Not Sam! You bastard!" Nicole was shouting now, and Sam squeezed her hand. "He's got Sam, and he's screaming at him, telling him he's not going to ruin his plans. And he's twisting Sam's head around, breaking his neck. I heard it snap. I heard it, oh my God... And now he's reaching for me, and his hand is on my throat..." Her voice choked off, and she began coughing, and the doctor spoke softly.

"Nicole, I'm going to count to three. When I reach three, you will wake up, and you will feel well-rested and calm. One. Two. Three."

Nicole immediately stopped crying and coughing, looking up at the doctor, and then over at Sam, who pulled her close and put his arms around her. "Are you okay?" he asked, looking down into her face, and she nodded.

"Yes, Sam, I'm okay. What happened?"

"Nothing, Nicole," Dr. Randall answered. "You walked through your dream, and you survived. Sam died in your dream, and yet he's sitting right beside you. You made it through, Nicole."

She smiled a little, laying against Sam for a moment. "Yeah. Made it through. At least so far," she murmured.

Nicole stayed under the shelter of Sam's arm as he drove the Impala back to Bobby's place. It was a quiet ride, as they were both lost in their thoughts, and soon they pulled into the yard at Bobby's house and Sam parked, shutting off the Impala's rumbling engine. He looked down at Nicole, a little smile curving his lips, and bent to kiss her softly, then stared into her sparkling green eyes. "Are you okay?"

She smiled back, nodding. "I'm okay, Sam. Let's go in and see if this helps at all."

As they came in the door, Devon rushed into the kitchen. "Nicole? How did it go? Are you all right?"

Nicole smiled as Devon hugged her, then stepped back, questions in her eyes.

"Yeah, girl, I'm fine. We just need to see if the things I saw can be of any help." They walked into the living room, and Nicole exclaimed loudly, "Holy shit!"

"What? What is it?" Devon asked, rushing to her side. Nicole was staring at Ellen, who stood near Bobby, poring over a map which was spread out on the desk.

Nicole pointed at Ellen. "She... She was in my vision."

Dean walked into the room just then, and Devon went to his side, slipping an arm around his waist as his arm rested on her shoulders.

"This is Ellen. And Ellen, this is our friend, Nicole. The one we were telling you about."

Ellen nodded towards Nicole. "Nice to meet you, Nicole, although it would've been better under other circumstances."

"Um, yeah. Nice to meet you, too." Nicole shook her head, glancing up at Sam. "This is just freakin' weird."

"Ellen? What's going on?" Sam asked, his hazel eyes concerned.

Dean looked at his brother, his lips pressed tightly together, his brow creased in a frown. "They burned the Roadhouse, Sammy. To the ground. Killed everyone there. Ash is dead."

Sam went directly to Ellen, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Ellen, I'm sorry."

She looked up at him, fighting to be strong. "At least Jo wasn't there. First time I've been glad she was off hunting." Sam put his arms around her and hugged her, and Ellen sniffed a little as they parted. "Still can't believe Ash is gone. Damn it."

Sam went back to Nicole's side, and they sat on the couch together. "So, how'd it go with the hypnotist?" Dean asked, looking at Nicole. "Did it help?"

Sam nodded. "I think she saw a little more, but still not a definite location. And that guy that killed me in her first vision? He's there with the Colt."

"If he's there with the Colt, then Yellow-Eyes gave it to him," Dean said, his face grim. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. The Colt was used for a key. The crypt in the cemetery is a devil's gate."

"Devil's gate?" Ellen and Bobby were looking at each other, eyes wide, and Dean noticed their exchange. "What?"

Ellen spoke quietly. "A devil's gate is a doorway to hell. If it's opened, demons escape into this world. A lot of demons."

Dean moved away from Devon, leaning his hands on the top of Bobby's desk. "Okay, there's got to be some way to figure this out. We know it's in Wyoming. We know it's a devil's gate. We know they'll take the Colt there, which is what we need to kill that son of a bitch. How do we find it?"

"Easy. Look at this map, Dean." Bobby pulled another map from the drawer of the desk and laid it out on the desk top. "I've been tracking demon signs. Look at Wyoming."

"Looks like there are signs everywhere. Except that one spot."

Bobby looked into Dean's eyes. "Exactly. One spot. So why?"

Ellen looked up. "I almost forgot. Ash told me to check the safe, before our call got cut off, the night of the fire. This was in there."  
She pulled a file folder out of her bag and handed it to Dean, who laid it on top of the other map. Bobby was flipping through pages in a book he'd hurriedly pulled from the bookshelf, and when he had found the page he was looking for, he slammed it down on the desk.

"Here. Samuel Colt built five churches in a 100-mile circle in Wyoming. And then he built iron rails connecting them, like this." Bobby drew lines between the churches on the map Ellen had brought, showing the rail lines, and when he was finished there was a perfect pentacle on the map.

"Son of a bitch. A hundred-mile-wide devils' trap." Dean shook his head in amazement. "But Yellow-Eyes can't cross iron."

"He doesn't have to." Sam stood beside him now, looking down at the map. "He has the guy in Nicole's vision. He's human."

"And he'll give him the Colt to open the devil's gate. We have to stop him, Sam. We have to get that Colt back. Then we can kill the demon."

"In my vision, Dean, the demon takes the Colt from you. That's when Devon runs to help you, and he kills her. Then he kills you. Then he kills Sam. Then he kills me." Nicole stared into Dean's eyes, and she saw the fear, as well as the determination.

"We have to stop them, Nicole. If they open that gate, the demons from hell escape into our world. You've seen what one demon can do. Imagine what it would be like for them all to be free." Dean was angry, but his anger was not towards Nicole, and she knew it. "We have to go. But you, and Devon and Ellen, you're staying here. That changes the vision. That lets us go do our job without worrying about getting one or all of you killed. That's the plan."

"Dean!" Devon shouted, but he turned towards her, his expression set in stone.

"You're staying, Dev. I've been hunting this thing almost my entire life. So has Sammy. Bobby has been along for the ride for a long time. But Ellen," he said, looking her way, "you've lost enough. Nicole, you're not a hunter, and you've done your job. You got us the info we needed." He stepped up to put his hands on Devon's face, looking down into her tear-filled eyes. "And Devon, I just... I can't. I can't let you go. I heard Nicole's vision. And you'd do that, you'd rush to help me, and you'd die. And I can't live with that. I won't live with that. So you stay." His voice broke a little as he finished, and he bent to kiss her, then pulled her almost roughly into his arms.

Bobby poured himself a shot of whiskey, looking at it for a moment before downing it smoothly. "Tomorrow, boys, we head to Wyoming."


	31. Chapter 31

"You're not gonna argue with me?" Dean asked as they walked into the apartment. Devon walked farther into the room and turned to face him, eyes spitting sparks, arms folded across her chest.

"Oh, I was just waiting until we got home." Dean ducked his head, trying to hide the smile on his face. "You think this is funny, Dean? You think you can issue orders to me, and I'll just fall in line?"

"You're not coming along, Dev. That's all there is to it. Ellen's okay with it, Nicole's okay with it."

"Don't bet on it."

He took a step towards her, putting a hand on her arm. "Baby..."

"Don't baby me." She pulled away and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge and opening it, throwing the cap at his chest as he followed her into the room. She downed half the bottle in one drink before Dean trapped her in the corner of the cupboard, one hand on the counter on each side of her. She looked up at him, fear and anger and tears in her eyes. "You know you're probably going to your death tomorrow. And you're just telling me to stay home and wait for it."

Dean stepped in closer, moving one hand to lightly touch her face, sliding along her neck and under her hair. "If I am gonna die tomorrow, why would I want you there to watch it, Dev?" She turned her head, looking away from him, but his fingers gently combed through her hair and caressed her neck, and she looked back up into the warmth of his green eyes, angry at herself for her weakness.

"And if there's a chance I'm gonna die tomorrow, I know what I want to do tonight." He bent to kiss her, softly teasing at her lips until she finally gave in and opened to him with a sigh. His other hand moved to glide down her back, tracing the back pocket of her jeans before grabbing her and pulling her close as he moved against her. She reached down between them, still kissing him, undoing his belt and his jeans, then slipping her hand into his boxers to touch him, hot and hard beneath the restricting clothes.

Devon sucked lightly at the tip of his tongue, and Dean moaned into her mouth. She squeezed him a little harder, then slid her hands around to his sides, working his boxers and jeans down lower on his hips, still kissing him as his knees gave just a little at her touch. She pulled back from him, watching his passion-glazed eyes as she bit her lip, pushing his pants down farther and leaning in to kiss his neck, then bringing her hands to his shoulders, sliding his plaid shirt down his arms and letting it hit the floor. Then she reached for his t-shirt, his muscles contracting as she lightly brushed her fingers across his belly, lifting his shirt over his head. He flung the shirt to the side as he pulled his arms out, grabbing her and pulling her close. But as he made a move to pick her up, she placed her hands on his wrists, shaking her head.

She glided her hands back up the length of his arms, her fingers playing over the hard muscle of his biceps, then over his shoulders as she leaned in to kiss his lips very softly, nipping at his bottom lip before running her tongue over it. She kissed her way to the corner of his mouth, nibbling at his stubbled jaw, and then moving down his neck and to his chest. Her hands felt cool against the heat of his skin, and she moved them around to his back as she teased at his nipple, making him moan aloud. He wanted to pick her up and sit her on the counter, and plunge into her, feel her surround him. But he knew where she was headed, and he wanted that, too, even though he felt as if he could barely stand. She was slowly driving him insane with her lips and tongue and teeth, sucking gently at his flesh until he felt like he would come before she even made it there.

Dean braced his hands on the counter again as Devon reached his waist, moving her way down his belly, kissing and nipping at his hip bone, then angling towards her goal. Her tongue flicked across the tip, sending him reeling, and she moved her hands around to grip his firm backside, just as she took him into her mouth, sucking hard. "Devon." He ground out her name between his clenched teeth as she drove him to near madness, first sucking hard, then pulling back until only the tip was still in her mouth, swirling her tongue over it, letting him feel just a touch of her teeth against him. When he thought he could take no more, she slowly pulled away, stopping for just a moment to place a soft kiss at his tip, and he almost lost control once again. She moved to stand, and he gripped her arms, pulling her up, attacking her lips with his own, almost savagely. She answered in kind, her arms holding him close as he stepped out of his jeans, kicking them aside.

She finally stepped away from him, her chest heaving as she fought for breath, reaching for his hand. He took it and followed her as she pulled him into the living room, stopping at the back of the couch. Then she reached down, pulling her shirt over her head, tossing it without looking. He looked at her, a little confused, as she pulled him closer. "On the couch?" he whispered, his eyes going closed for a second as her fingernails lightly trailed down his belly.

"Over the couch," she whispered in reply, turning her back to him as she reached to unclasp her bra.

"Son of a bitch," he growled, reaching to help her remove it, dropping it to the floor, then cupping her breasts in his hands as he ground himself against her firm, soft bottom. He reached around her, unfastening the button of her jeans and sliding the zipper down, feeling her tremble with need as he touched her. He slid his fingers down into her panties, and she cried out softly as he played, leaning forward to whisper into her ear, "You're making me crazy, do you know that?" Finally, when he had reduced her to quiet whimpering, her pulled her jeans and panties down, and she wriggled out of them. He ran his hands over her rear and her hips, then gently pushed her forward to bend over the back of the couch. He guided himself to her warm, moist opening, sliding in slowly, letting her raise up slightly to her toes as he buried himself completely in her welcoming heat. He leaned forward over her, far enough to reach around and take her breasts in his hands, moving his hips, causing her to moan softly. "Do you like that, baby?" he whispered, pulling almost out, then driving into her, squeezing her breasts and tweaking at her nipples. "Do you want it easy, or do you want it hard?" He nipped at the back of her shoulder, and he felt her excitement flow over him, as he slipped almost completely out, then very slowly back in.

"Dean..."

"Easy or hard, sweetheart. Tell me." He nipped at her again, and he felt her muscles grip at him, almost sending him over the edge.

"Hard. I want it hard, Dean..." She was on her toes, pressing back against him, and with a low growl, he gripped her hips and rammed himself home with all the force he could muster. She cried out, bracing herself on the couch as he plunged into her again and again, and finally their shouts mingled as Devon came undone, and the spasms of her orgasm sent Dean into a frenzied climax of his own. She collapsed over the back of the couch, breathing hard, and Dean leaned over her, his strength spent for the moment. He laid over her, cradling her in his arms for a few moments until he regained some of the function in his legs. Then he stood, pulling gently from her, and turned her around, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom, her arms around his neck. He laid her down on her pillow, then crawled in beside her, pulling her close, cradling her head on his chest.

He kissed her sweetly for a time, his hands on her face, his lips clinging gently to hers. When he finally stopped, looking down into her eyes, gently sweeping her hair from her face, he spoke softly to her. "I love you, Devon. And like hell I'm gonna die tomorrow."

Nicole unlocked the door and walked in, silent, followed by Sam, who was watching her with concern. She hadn't said a word on the way into town, which for Nicole was unusual to say the least. She greeted Puddles, walking into the kitchen to feed and water him, kneeling down and wrapping her arms around his furry neck and hugging him tight. The dog stood there patiently, then licked her face as she released him, before digging into his supper.

Sam leaned in the doorway, watching her, waiting for her to speak. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to make things easier. There was no easy solution to what they were about to face, and they both knew it. She finally turned to face him, tears in her eyes. "I don't want you to go, Sam. Please don't go." She came to him, burying her face in his flannel-clad chest, clinging tightly to him as his arms surrounded her.

"Nicole, I have to go. We have to kill that thing, and stop him from unleashing hell on earth. That's our job."

"He'll kill you. He'll kill all of you."

Sam took hold of Nicole's shoulders, pulling her away to look down into her eyes. "No. He won't. We've changed the conditions of your vision. We know what his plans are. We'll stop him, Nicole, and we'll kill him."

"No, you won't. Just because we aren't there, it doesn't change anything, Sam. It just gives that demon fewer people to kill." She pushed away from him and went into the next room, heading for the bar, pouring herself a tall shot of whiskey, and dropping down onto the couch, taking a huge gulp. Sam stood there for a moment before walking into the room, pouring himself a drink and joining her there.

"Look, I know your vision..."

"No, Sam, you don't know." She looked up at him, despair in her eyes. "You didn't see the way he snapped Devon's neck like it was nothing. You didn't see what he did to Dean." She had to stop for a few seconds to compose herself, the pictures of Dean's broken and bleeding body flashing through her mind. "You didn't see him almost twist your head off, Sam. He's really pissed at you, you screwed with his great plans for you. He's gonna want to tear your head off, whether I'm there or not, whether Devon's there or not. You're number one on his wanted list, Sam. Don't you get it?"

"I get it, Nicole. Believe me. But you know what? He's been number one on my list for... well, for my entire life. Nobody hates that son of a bitch like I do. He is done ruining my life. We will kill him. And I'm sorry, Nicole, but if that takes me dying, then so be it. He has to be stopped, and it's my freaking job to stop him."

Nicole downed the rest of her drink, setting the glass on the table, then turning around and climbing onto Sam's lap, straddling him and putting her hands on his shoulders. "You can't die, Sam. I can't lose you." She kissed him hard, and he could taste her tears and the whiskey on her tongue as she buried her hands in his hair. He leaned forward to set his glass down, then wrapped her in his long arms, crushing her to his chest. Nicole made a small noise, rubbing herself against the growing bulge in his jeans, sighing as Sam slid his hand up her thigh, squeezing, urging her to move again. She did, rotating her hips as she rubbed against him, and deftly unbuttoning his shirt as she continued with the exquisite torment, until Sam felt as though he would burst out of his jeans.

Once his shirt was undone, she slipped it, almost unnoticed, from his body, running her hands over his muscular shoulders and arms. She dragged her fingernails lightly down his chest and abs, causing him to shudder violently. She pulled her lips from his, leaving him to roll his head on the back of the couch as she worked to unfasten his jeans. His fingers were digging into Nicole's thigh almost painfully, and she pried his hand free, pointedly moving it around to her bottom. She undid his zipper, and slipped her fingers down inside, and Sam's hips rose as she touched him. He raised his head, his eyes staring intently into hers, and reached for her shirt. She removed her hand and lifted her arms as he pulled the soft cotton over her head, then leaned her back, his mouth on the soft mounds of flesh above her lacy bra. His fingers quickly undid the clasp at her back, and he grasped at it with his teeth, pulling it down far enough to give him access. His tongue flicked at her nipple until she cried out softly from the blissful torment, and then he moved to the other breast. Nicole laid back against his arms, writhing as he teased at her.

Sam pulled Nicole close once again to kiss her, crushing her against his chest, flesh on flesh, and she gyrated against him again, causing him to moan loudly into her mouth. She pulled back a little, looking down at him with predatory need in her eyes as she slowly slid from his lap to stand, undoing her jeans and sliding them slowly down her legs. Sam watched for a moment, his tongue darting out to play over his bottom lip, his breathing harsh. He lifted his hips from the couch, pushing his jeans and boxers down, and Nicole kicked them out of the way as they hit the floor. She climbed back on Sam's lap, raising up on her knees, almost unable to breathe as she brushed against the tip of his erection, and Sam fought the urge to plunge into her hard. She slowly impaled herself on him, and a long sigh escaped his lips as she finally took him all in, a shiver running through her.

They sat unmoving for a moment, not wanting it to end too quickly, but as Sam gazed at Nicole, her head thrown back, he could contain himself no longer, and he thrust up into her, causing her to moan aloud. He grasped her hips as he leaned in to bite softly at her neck, and she gyrated against him, making him rear his head back, inhaling with a hiss through his teeth. He went back to nipping at her, which drove her to more frantic movement against him, and finally he began to plunge up into her as she rode him, her nails digging into his thighs, and she almost sobbed his name as she reached her peak and convulsed around him. Sam drove himself up into her, unable to hold back at the sensation, and his violent eruption left him trembling along with her as she collapsed on his chest. He encircled her with his arms, holding her close, and they sat there in silence as their bodies slowly calmed.

"Bobby Singer, just who the hell do you think you are?" Ellen slammed her empty glass to the table, her eyes blazing fire as she glared at him. "Just because some wet-behind-the-ears little shit tells me I'm not doing something doesn't mean I have to listen. Not gonna happen, Bobby. I'm coming with you." She stood up and folded her arms across her chest, leveling a look that would send most men running for cover.

"Now, Ellen," Bobby said, his voice soothing, "Dean didn't mean any harm. He's just worried about you girls getting hurt, especially Devon. He's got a soft spot there, you know."

"I don't give a damn who he's got a soft spot for, he can't tell us what to do."

"And he's not exactly wet behind the ears, Ellen. That boy's the best damn hunter I've ever seen, and he's been doing it since he was barely old enough to be able to lift a gun. So when he says something, I've learned to at least give it some consideration."

"Once again, Bobby, I don't give a damn. This war is on all of us, and he can't keep me, or Devon or Nicole, for that matter, from coming to Wyoming. I'm not talking about this any more." With those words, she stalked from the room, and Bobby, rolling his eyes and sighing wearily, got up to follow.

"Well, you can have the bed. I'll crash on the couch for tonight, Ellen. If that's okay, don't want you to think I'm giving you orders or anything," Bobby said wryly, and Ellen stared back at him, shaking her head.

"Funny. I'll take the bed, that's fine. And I think I'm heading there now, it's gonna be a long day tomorrow."

She headed into the bedroom and closed the door, and Bobby took a deep breath. "I hope you're right about this, Dean," he muttered, pouring himself a shot and downing it before stretching out on the couch.

Devon woke slowly, her eyes fighting to stay closed, then fluttering open, looking across the bed where Dean had been earlier. He was standing near the bed, and she heard his zipper as he finished getting dressed, turning to face her. "Hi," she said, a sleepy smile curving her lips.

"Hi," he answered, the look on his face strange, and she frowned a little as she looked back at him.

"What's wrong?" He looked down, chewing on his lip, and she was puzzled by his actions. "Dean, what..." She went to move, to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, but she found herself unable to sit up that far, and looked up at her left arm, which was raised above her head. Her eyes widened, and she turned her head quickly to glare at Dean, who was still staring at the floor. "What the hell, Dean?" she yelled, yanking at her left arm, which was securely handcuffed to the headboard. "Let me loose, now!" He still stood there, biting at his lip, staring at the floor, then finally raising his green eyes to look at her. There was determination in them, and she knew he wasn't going to budge.

Devon felt tears sting at her eyes as she stared back at him. "You son of a bitch!"

"Dev, I know you're pissed..."

"You have no idea how pissed I am right now! Let me go, Dean!"

He shook his head adamantly. "No. Not gonna happen, Dev. I know if you're free, you'll just wait until we leave and follow us to Wyoming. I know that. Which is why I had to do this. You can't come along. If anyone's gonna die today, it'll be me, or Sam, or maybe Bobby. Who knows, maybe he'll get all three of us. I don't know. All I know is, if you're there, you're going to die. Nicole's vison was pretty clear." He walked around the bed and came close to her, but she turned away as he reached to touch her face. "We'll call Sheriff Mills once we get close to where we're going. She can come and let you loose then." He stood, looking down at her, trying to ignore the fact that the sheet covering her had dropped down to her waist, and trying to ignore the throbbing in his loins at the sight. "I love you, Devon. And I'm sorry." He leaned down, kissing the top of her head, then turned and walked from the room, Devon screaming curses at him as he left the apartment and climbed behind the wheel of the Impala. He pulled out, turning the car around and heading for Nicole's house to pick up Sam.

As Dean pulled into Nicole's driveway, his brother came out, turning to make sure the door was locked behind him. He hung his head for a moment before coming to the car, his face somber.

Dean backed out of the driveway, then headed in the direction of Bobby's place. "Are you sure she can't get loose?"

"Dean, I handcuffed her to the bed. She's not going anywhere." He glanced over at Dean, who was wearing the same guilt-ridden expression that Sam wore. "Dean, if Yellow-Eyes doesn't kill us, you know the girls will."

Dean's jaw clenched as he stared straight ahead. "Yeah. Probably. Let's hope Bobby's not dead already."

Bobby cringed a little as Ellen screamed at him through the bathroom door. He had put a hasp on the door after Ellen had gone to bed, praying she wouldn't come back out and catch him. When she went in that morning, he had quietly closed the hasp and put a padlock through it to hold it securely. But for good measure, he was now nailing a couple of lengths of one by four across the corners, trying to ignore the hellfire and curses that she was wishing down on his head.

He headed into the kitchen, sighing with relief when he heard the roar of the Impala's engine coming in the drive. "Bobby Singer, when I get out of here you're gonna wish you'd never been born!" Ellen was still shouting at the top of her lungs as he left the house, heading for the car, his face a little pale.

He climbed into the back seat, meeting Dean's eyes in the rear view mirror. "Boy, this has got to be one of the worst ideas you've ever had. You know that, right?"

Dean stared back for a beat before shifting into reverse to turn around and pull out of the salvage yard. "Yeah, Bobby. I know."


	32. Chapter 32

Devon was muttering under her breath, twisting around to look at the handcuffs that held her captive. There was no way she was going to break the bed to get free, that was for sure. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, trying to think.

Her lock picks were across the room on top of the dresser. Dean had moved her phone there, too, so she couldn't call for help. She rolled her eyes at the thought of being rescued, naked and cuffed to a bed. She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw as a new wave of anger washed over her. After another moment of breathing to calm her temper, she sat up, determined to quiet herself and think. She reached for the drawer in the bedside table, rifling through the contents, but found nothing but a chapstick, some breath mints and hand lotion. As a last resort, she might be able to slip her hands through the cuffs if she used the lotion, but Dean had made sure the cuffs were pretty snug. There was nothing else useful in the drawer, and she sighed in frustration. From now on, there was going to be a lock pick set in the back of that drawer.

She tugged at the cuffs again in frustration, her teeth clenched. Why hadn't she thought of cuffing him to the bed? Then he wouldn't have been able to go to what was probably the last fight of his life. She blinked hard as tears filled her eyes again, and despair welled up in her chest. Her eyes moved over the bedside table again, hopelessly, and then came back to rest on the book she'd been reading. She wiped the tears from her lashes, and a slow smile curved her lips. She reached for the book, opening it to the page she had last read, marked with a large paper clip. "Thought you were so smart, Dean," she muttered to herself as she bent the wire, turning herself around to the cuffs and inserting it into the lock.

When she was free, she got dressed quickly, grabbing the bag loaded with weapons and shoving the paper clip carefully into her pocket. She headed out the door, almost running down the stairs, and climbed into her car, speeding towards Nicole's house.  
She picked the lock on Nicole's front door, and heard her friend call out as she opened it. "Hey, who's there? I need some help in here!"

"It's me, Nicole!" she called out, heading to the bedroom. Nicole was cuffed to the bed, just as she had been, but at least she was wearing a t-shirt. "Well, at least you aren't naked," she said, pulling the paper clip from her pocket and crawling onto the bed, sitting on her knees as she fumbled with the handcuffs.

"He left you cuffed to the bed naked? I tell you what, girlfriend, I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. Just take me to him, that demon needs to take a number."

"Get in line behind me, sister," Devon muttered, and then the cuffs opened and Nicole was free. "So, get dressed, and then we'd better go rescue Ellen. I'm sure they've got her on lockdown, too."

Nicole grabbed her rifle and shotgun and they stowed them in Devon's trunk before heading to Bobby's place. Devon used her key to get in, and called Ellen's name. "Ellen? It's Devon, where are you?"

"The asshole locked me in the bathroom!"

"Okay, we're coming," Devon shouted as they headed that direction, and Nicole ran to the shop for tools to remove the barricades that Bobby had nailed in place. "Hang on, Ellen, we'll have you out in a minute." Nicole returned with a crowbar to pry the boards loose, and they used bolt cutters on the padlock. "You okay?" Devon asked as Ellen stormed out of the small room.

"I'm fine. We ready to go? After that demon's dead, I'm gonna..." Ellen headed for the door without even finishing her sentence, and Devon and Nicole followed.

* * *

They were about half an hour behind the guys, but Devon was determined to make up for lost time. She was speeding down the highway, praying that the cops had better things to do that day than track speeders on this mostly deserted stretch of highway in southwestern Wyoming. Ellen had driven for the first half of the frantic journey, and Devon had taken over when they turned off the interstate. They were all exhausted, trying to catch a nap when they had a chance, but the fear of what they would find when they reached their destination had them all a little too keyed up to really fall asleep.

They followed the highway until they sighted a small country church, a big sign in front of it stating that it had been built by Samuel Colt and that it was a historical site. Devon pulled off to the side, looking back at Ellen and Nicole. "Ellen, what do you think?"

Ellen stared towards the church, spotting the rails set in the ground not far away. "I think this is the most direct route in. I think we should drive a little farther on, take the next road in, try to avoid running into Yellow-Eyes."

Devon nodded. "I agree." She turned around quickly, heading west along the dusty road, driving as fast as she dared. They finally spotted another church, another rail, and another dirt road leading into the center of the giant devil's trap. Devon turned and drove that direction, fighting a clutch of panic in the pit of her stomach. The guys had been ahead of them, and who knew if the demon was already here?

It seemed as if they had been driving for hours when Ellen spoke up. "There's the cemetery, girls. Pull over behind those trees, Devon, we'd better walk in from here." They parked, hidden behind a copse of brush cedars, and retrieved weapons from the trunk. Ellen took Nicole's shotgun, while Nicole slid the rifle strap over her shoulder. Devon grabbed her sawed-off and stuck her pistol in the back of her jeans. Spare rounds were shoved into their pockets, and their eyes met as they all felt the adrenaline rushing through their veins, and Ellen spoke brusquely."Okay. Nicole, just like we talked about. You're the best shot here, you sneak around to where you have a clear shot at the door of that crypt. When you see that bastard, shoot him before he has a chance to put the Colt into the lock. We already know he's evil, so don't wait for him to do something first." Nicole nodded, determination on her face. "Devon, you and I just sneak in there as quietly as we can, and one of us needs to get that Colt to Sam or Dean. If one of us goes down, the other has to keep goin', you understand?" Devon nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. "All right. Let's go, girls. That gate's not opening, not today."  
Nicole took off on a crouching run through the trees, angling towards the side of the cemetery. Ellen and Devon ran silently for the front gate, seeing no movement as yet. They each crouched down behind a tombstone, where they would be out of sight of the demon's human lackey when he showed up.

It wasn't long before Devon heard footsteps, crunching on the dead grass and leaves scattered thickly over the cemetery. There was the tall black man Nicole had seen in her vision, his eyes focused with grim purpose on the crypt at the far end. His long legs carried him quickly to his goal, and he lowered a bag to the ground, digging through it. Dean, Sam and Bobby stepped out from behind their hiding places, as Devon and Ellen held their positions, and their breath.

"Hey!" Dean's voice boomed out over the silence, and the stranger turned slowly, the Colt dangling from his hand, an evil smile on his face. "Drop it! I know you're human, but you're still a demon's bitch, and I'll drop you where you stand."

Devon's heart was pounding as she waited, praying that Nicole had made it into position. She closed her eyes, silently praying as the men exchanged a few angry insults. After what seemed like an hour, she heard the rifle shot echo through the air, and as she stood up, saw the man drop to the ground, the Colt jolted from his grasp. She and Ellen came out from their hiding places, and Devon ran forward to where the men stood, looking shocked into the distance, watching as Nicole came striding towards them from the north.  
Dean turned, a thunderous frown on his face, as Ellen marched up to him. The crack from her hand striking his face was almost as loud as the rifle shot had been, and he staggered back a little, caught by surprise. Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him.

"Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again, do you hear me, boy?" she said, and after a few shocked seconds, Dean put his arms around her, patting her back a little awkwardly. Then she backed away, turning towards Bobby, who was staring sheepishly at the ground. She moved to hug Sam, then roughly shoved at his shoulder. "Do you hear me?" Sam nodded as well, looking like a reprimanded twelve-year-old.

Devon stayed her ground, one hand in her pocket, the other holding her sawed-off over her shoulder. Dean turned his eyes on her, and she stood, staring back at him, unmoving, as Nicole moved past her in a blur. The rifle hit the ground as she flew at Dean, fists flying, connecting with a few good shots before Sam wrapped his arms around her, holding her as she fought, until finally, she stopped swinging and stood still. "We didn't want you hurt, Nicole," he said quietly, and she pushed angrily away from him, turning her back to walk towards the gate, grabbing her rifle on the way.

Devon stayed where she was, still staring back at Dean, as Nicole strode past her. She fought angry tears as she turned to join her friend, leaving the graveyard behind, heading for the trees and her car. Bobby came back to where the others stood, the Colt in his hand. "Well, I guess Yellow-Eyes lives another day," he said somberly. Dean's eyes were still on Devon as she walked farther from his sight, then disappeared behind the trees.

Ellen watched as Devon's blue sedan threw up a cloud of dust, fishtailing a little as it turned onto the road, then spoke quietly. "Well, boys, looks like I need a ride." Dean, refusing to look at anyone, shoved his Colt into the back of his jeans and took off walking. Sam glanced at Bobby before following behind, and Bobby looked guiltily at Ellen. "Well, I suppose we'd better go with 'em, before they leave us, too," Ellen said, and they trailed behind the Winchesters, heading for the Impala's hiding place.

* * *

Devon and Nicole rode the almost three and a half hours to Casper in near silence. The radio played, an occasional comment was made on something they were passing on the road, they discussed where they should stop for the night, but mostly they just focused on their own inner battles.

They registered at a little motel on the outskirts of Casper, going in without luggage, since they hadn't had time to pack before leaving Sioux Falls. They both crawled into their beds in their t-shirts, turned off the lights, and before long Nicole spoke. "What are you gonna do, Devon?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you didn't even talk to him."

"I don't know, Nicole. I really don't. I'm still so mad at him right now." Devon's eyes were filled with tears, and that made her even more angry. She blinked them away, taking a deep breath to calm herself before she spoke again. "How about you? What are you doing about Sam?" She turned on her side, propping herself up on an elbow as she looked over to Nicole, who was doing the same.

"I don't know, girl. I know I'm in love with the jackass, but he really crossed the line. I mean, if he wants to cuff me to the bed for other purposes, that's a different story, but..."

"Whoa, too much information!" Devon joked, and Nicole laughed quietly.

"Yeah, well... Anyway, you love Dean, Devon. I know you're mad at him, but you really should talk to him."

"You didn't talk to Sam."

"Honey, that's different. I know I'm gonna talk to Sam. And make up with Sam. Hmmmm..."

"Girl, you have a one-track mind," Devon teased, and they laughed again.

"Well, yeah." She was quiet for a moment. "Devon, I know he hurt you, but you can't give up on him. God only knows, I wanted to kill him and then revive him and kill him again. But he was just afraid. And he was afraid because he loves you, sweet girl. You gotta forgive a lot when you have that, don't you?" Devon didn't answer, and Nicole heard a quiet sniff from the next bed. "I'm sorry, it's not my business. I just know how you two feel about each other, I can see it every time you're together. I'll shut up now and let you get some sleep." Nicole turned over, snuggling into the covers, and before long Devon could hear her deep, even breathing.

She had just started to doze off when she heard the unmistakable low rumble of the Impala's engine. She sat up in her bed, her eyes wide, then jumped up and pulled on her jeans just in time to hear a soft knock on the door. She stood in front of it for a moment, taking a deep breath, then turned the deadbolt and opened the door. Dean stood outside, Sam a step behind, both looking guilty and uncomfortable.

Devon backed up, letting them in the door, and closed it quietly behind her, leaning back on it. Sam was already at Nicole's bedside, and Devon ducked her head, the gentle way Sam was smoothing back Nicole's hair bringing tears to her eyes. She looked up at Dean, and he winced a little at the pain on her face. He came slowly towards her, whispering, "Where's your key card?" She pointed to the table, and he reached for it, tucking it into his back pocket. "Come outside with me, we can talk in the car. Please." She slowly nodded, and he opened the door, leading the way out into the night. He opened the driver's side door and she slid in past the steering wheel, Dean joining her and closing the door.

He put his hands on the steering wheel, then slowly let them fall to his lap as he looked down at them. In the flickering light from above the door to her room she could see him biting at his lip, and remained quiet, waiting for him to speak. "I'm sorry, Dev," he said softly, and she was angry at herself for the tears that filled her eyes at his words.

She swallowed hard, blinking back her tears, and answered him quietly. "Sorry you tied me to a bed naked for the sheriff to find, or sorry that you didn't trust me?"

He turned his head quickly to look at her, surprise on his face. "What makes you think I don't trust you?"

Now she was the one looking down at her hands, her fingers playing absently with the narrow woven leather band on her right wrist. "If you trusted me, you wouldn't have left me behind, Dean. You would have let me help. You just were so afraid I'd get myself killed that you..."

"You're right about one thing. I was afraid that son of a bitch would kill you. I was afraid because Nicole saw it in her vision, and I knew that you'd do what she saw you doing. And I couldn't live with you sacrificing yourself to try and save me, Devon. That has nothing to do with trusting you to do your job. It has everything to do with me being selfish. I lost my parents to that thing, almost lost Sam, and it's not taking you. Not if I have any damn thing to say about it."

Devon laid her head back against the seat, turning to look at Dean's face, suddenly wanting to smooth the frown from his brow. A single tear escaped despite her best efforts, and he reached to brush it from her cheek, his hand lingering there as he bent slowly to kiss her, his lips playing gently over hers. She opened to him with a sigh, her arm sliding up around his neck, her fingers sweeping through his soft hair, and then he pulled her against him, his mouth slanting hungrily across hers, muffling the quiet moan that escaped her lips.

After several minutes, Dean lifted his head, pulling back a little, his thumb brushing across his bottom lip as he looked down at Devon. "We really need to get some rest, Dev."

She looked down, nodding. "I know."

"We don't know what's coming next, but I know Yellow-Eyes is not gonna take this laying down. He'll be coming, and we need to be at the top of our game. Much as I'd rather get us a room right now, I think we'd better..."

Devon nodded again, smiling, reaching up to touch his face. "Yes, we'd better."

He kissed her again, a soft, quick brush of his lips on hers, and turned to open the door. "Let's knock this time, okay? I don't need to see any more of Nicole and Sam than I already have." Devon let out a short little laugh, and waited as Dean knocked quietly on the door. "Is it safe to come in there?" he called out, opening the door only a crack.

"Yeah, it's safe," Sam answered, an amused note in his voice. They entered the room, and Devon smiled at Sam, who was laying atop the comforter, Nicole in his arms.

"What's the matter, Dean, didn't like the scenery last time?" Nicole jabbed, and a smirk curved his lips.

"The scenery was fine, but I'd rather leave yours to my little brother, if you don't mind."

Sam looked towards Devon, meeting her gaze. "Everything all right?" he asked, glancing towards Dean, then looking back into Devon's eyes, concern on his face.

She smiled at him, and nodded. "Yeah. Everything's okay, Sam." He smiled, relief on his face, then scooted down to lay flat on the bed, still holding Nicole. Devon slipped her jeans off and crawled under the covers, and Dean pulled his boots off and followed Sam's lead, dropping down on top of the comforter and pulling her close. He turned to his side and cradled her in his arms, one leg over hers, and they both drifted off quickly.

A couple of hours later, Dean was jerked from his deep sleep by a hoarse whisper from Sam. "Dean! It's happening again. She's having a vision."

Dean sat up, groggy, followed by Devon, and he kept a protective arm around her as if the danger was already in the room. Nicole was sitting bolt upright, breathing harshly, muttering under her breath. Sam held her shaking hand in his, watching her, worry on his face. Finally, after several seconds, she inhaled sharply, and her eyes fluttered open. She sagged against Sam, shuddering once, then looked up at him. "He's coming. He'll be waiting for us. At Bobby's."


	33. Chapter 33

"Anything else for you, hon?" asked the waitress, smiling down at Bobby as she refilled his coffee. After refilling everyone's cups, and getting a 'no' from them all, she turned and left them to their conversation.

The six of them sat in a corner table at a truck stop east of Casper, drinking coffee and trying to come up with a strategy that wouldn't get them all killed. Sam shook his head, looking up at his brother. "Dean. You know how strong he is. And the powers he has. When he had us in that cabin... Dude, he almost killed you then. The only thing that can kill him is the Colt, and we have exactly one bullet left. We must be crazy."

"Sam, I know. I was there, remember? Don't really want to go through that again, believe me. But we have to kill him. Right now we're at the top of his to-do list, little brother. We have screwed up all his big plans, plans he had going from the time you were a baby. He's just a little pissed off at us."

"Problem is, he'll be waiting for us when we get back," Nicole said softly. "He knows we're coming. He's got all the cards in his hand. We've got the Colt, but first we've got to get off a shot, and it's got to be spot-on. This is a million-to-one deal, y'all."

"Too bad we can't make him come to us," Devon said, taking a swallow of her coffee. "He's in control right now, and that's not good."  
Dean looked at her, and a smile slowly slid across his face. "Now there's an idea."

Devon frowned at him in confusion as he pulled the well-worn journal that had belonged to John Winchester from his coat pocket, opening it on the table and leafing through the smudged pages. "What are you looking for?" she asked, and she saw the same question in Sam's eyes.

Bobby spoke up, nodding his head. "Summoning ritual?"

Dean met his eyes. "We know Dad summoned him at the hospital. There has to be something that showed him how to do that, I'm hoping it's in here." Dean looked up, his eyes narrowed. "Bobby, you've got protection against possession, right?"

"Well, yeah, ya idjit. Did you think I was born yesterday?"

Dean's eyes moved to Ellen. "Ellen?"

She leveled a stare at him. "Yes, I've got a tattoo." Bobby turned his head, one eyebrow raised, and Ellen gave him a stony look. "And no, Bobby Singer, I won't tell you where it is. It's none of your damn business."

The corner of Dean's mouth curved in an amused smirk as he looked back down at his dad's journal, still paging through without success. Devon had her hand looped over his left arm, leaning in and looking along with him, and he dropped a kiss on her temple, meeting her hazel eyes for a second before getting back to the task at hand. Nicole smiled at the exchange, leaning over against Sam's side as he gathered her in with his arm.

"So, Annie Oakley..." Bobby said wryly, looking Nicole's direction. "You're a damn good shot with that rifle. Think you could do that with the Colt?"

Her face sobered. "Honestly, I don't know. If y'all can get some regular bullets for me to try it out first, I'd be a lot more comfortable about that."

"Consider it done, we'll go pick up some ammo as soon as we're finished here," Bobby said, taking another swig of coffee.

Dean was staring at Bobby, an indignant set to his jaw. "And why would Nicole be firing the Colt?"

Bobby looked back at him with an expression that quieted the younger man immediately. "Son, that demon is gonna be suspicious if you and Sam aren't both there. And maybe me. I don't know, but there's no way one of you two can surprise him. He'll be suspicious if we summon him anyway, but he has to believe that you're cocky enough to summon him because you think you can kill him. If he doesn't, well... Well, then we'll probably be dead."

"Is that it?" Devon asked, pointing at the journal. The page had several notations and drawings, and had 'Yellow-Eyes' jotted at the top of the page. There was a drawing of a sigil, and underneath a list of ingredients. Dean looked up at Bobby.

"Bobby?" He handed the journal over, and Bobby looked at it closely, then looked up at Dean.

"Looks like it." They sat there for some time, discussing plans and strategies over myriad coffee refills. When they finally left it was almost noon, and they left a tip that made the waitress smile fondly after them.

Dean and Devon got back to the room first, after stopping at the ammo shop and then, after Dean asked the owner a couple of questions, at an antique store nearby. There he had found a long-barreled pistol, similar in appearance to the Colt.

They dropped their purchases on the table, and Devon looked at Dean, fear in the pit of her stomach. "This is gonna be okay, right? This gun, this is to distract him for a few extra seconds?"

Dean took her gently by the shoulders, looking down into her eyes. "I'm just trying to give us every advantage I can think of, Dev. I'm not sure he'll even end up in the devil's trap. He's pretty damn smart." He bent to kiss her, and she clung to him for a moment. As they stood with their arms around each other, Sam and Nicole walked in, having just come from the office.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, and Devon smiled vaguely at him.

"Yeah, just nervous about the whole thing. I'll be okay," she answered, and he smiled, giving her shoulder a squeeze as he passed. He was gathering his things together, and Devon watched him, confused. "What are you doing?"

"We got our own room," Nicole answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed, smiling up at her. "We decided that tomorrow might be our last day on earth, and..." She shrugged, tilting her head, and Devon smiled as Dean's arm snaked around her waist from behind.

"And that would make tonight our last night." Devon said quietly as she leaned back into Dean.

By that evening, they were as prepared as they would ever be to summon and destroy the demon. Bobby and Ellen had scouted an abandoned warehouse far enough into the outskirts of Casper to keep from drawing unwanted attention. They painted a huge devil's trap on the cracked concrete floor, and in the middle, drew out the summoning sigil. Nicole took target practice with the Colt until she was as comfortable with it as she was with her rifle, and there was a landing halfway up the wall that Sam tested and re-tested, making sure it was safe for her to sit there, hidden behind a stack of crates. The sawed-offs were all loaded with iron buckshot rounds, and Devon gathered every iron bar and poker they had, placing them together in the Impala's trunk. She had found some old iron railroad spikes while Dean was looking for the gun in the antique shop, and bought enough so that each of them could carry a couple in their pockets, just in case Yellow-Eyes got close.

They drove back to the motel, each one lost in their own thoughts. Ellen ordered pizza to be delivered, and they gathered in Bobby's room to eat together. After sharing a shot of whiskey, glasses held up in a silent toast, they headed to their own rooms for the night.

Sam closed the door as he and Nicole entered their room, and she sat down quietly on the edge of the bed, a troubled look in her eyes. Sam sat next to her, reaching for her hand. "You okay?" he asked softly, bringing her hand to his lips.

She looked up into his eyes for a moment, then shook her head slowly. "No. I'm not, Sam. What if I miss tomorrow? What if he kills all of y'all before I even get the chance? I'm scared, Sam, I'm really scared."

Sam laid back on the bed and pulled her with him, holding her close to his chest. "We're as ready as we can be, and we hopefully have the jump on him. We just have to take a crack at it, and hope it works. But for now, I want you to know something." He pulled her back, looking down into her green eyes, which were sparkling with tears. "I love you, half-pint. I didn't want to say it, I was afraid to say it, I've lost almost everyone I ever loved, Nicole. But I love you, and I wanted you to know." He bent to kiss her, and Nicole's eyes closed, a couple of tears squeezing from under her lashes as she responded, her back arching as he cupped her breast. Their tongues teased at each other as their hands roamed, buttons undone, clothing tossed to the floor, muscles rippling and soft sighs filling the room.

Sam's thumb played lightly over one nipple while his tongue circled the other, and Nicole whimpered as he sucked it gently into his mouth, flicking at it with his tongue until she was almost writhing under his touch. When he stopped, moving his lips and his hands farther down on her body, she almost lost control at the anticipation of what she knew was coming next.

He drove her almost wild with his teasing, nibbling at her thighs and behind her knees, his teeth nipping at her occasionally, sucking softly at her skin, and he moaned low in his throat as he reached her center, tasting her as he inserted two long fingers, feeling her muscles contract around them. His thumb found her nub as he removed his fingers and thrust his tongue inside her, and she cried out as she came undone and Sam drank her in.

He slid his fingers back inside, stroking at her until she was squirming beneath his touch again, small noises escaping her lips as her hips rose to meet him. "Sam..." she said breathlessly, and he stopped, kissing his way back up her body, then pulling her on top of him as he rolled to his back. Nicole moved her hips, rubbing herself against his already throbbing erection, and he let out a loud moan, his head thrashing about on the pillow. She watched him as she continued teasing him, dragging her nails lightly across his taut belly as he bucked beneath her. Finally, she could take it no more, raising up on her knees, and Sam reached to lift her as she centered herself, then lowered herself slowly down until he filled her completely. She shivered a little at the sensation, and Sam growled softly, lifting his hips until Nicole's weight was resting totally on him, her head thrown back as she caught her lip between her teeth.

He lowered himself down, and she ground herself against him again, and then began to ride him, slowly at first as Sam fought his own urges, letting her set the pace. Soon her soft cries filled the room as she rocked against him, lifting up and impaling herself on him harder and harder until she reached her peak, the muscles at her core spasming around Sam, and he bucked into her until he came, the world spinning out of control for a few seconds. She collapsed on his chest, their bodies dewy with sweat and shaking in the aftermath of their passion, and Sam's arms surrounded her as they laid there, exhausted.

Dean emptied his pockets onto the table and stretched his long arms above his head, turning to see Devon standing by the window. She was rubbing at the back of her neck with one hand, the other arm wrapped around her middle, staring out the window at nothing.  
He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Here. Let me." First he pulled the cord and closed the curtains, then led her to the bed and sat her down, taking a seat behind her and rubbing gently at her tense muscles. "I know it won't do any good, but I'll say it anyway. You need to relax."

Devon hung her head, letting him work at the back of her neck. "How do I relax, Dean? This thing is coming tomorrow, and it's after you and Sam. I'll relax when it's dead."

Dean swept her hair from her neck and bent to put his lips there, placing soft kisses over the area and sending a shiver down her spine. He kissed his way up until he reached the spot behind her ear, and whispered, "Why don't I go run you a bath?"

She leaned back against him, sighing. "Only if you come in with me."

He hugged her close, still nuzzling at her ear. "Deal." He ran the tub full of water as hot as they could stand it, then climbed in and held out a hand to help her. She sat between his legs and laid back on his chest, sighing contentedly as the heat from the water and the comfort of his arms soothed her nerves. They sat there for a while, until the water began to cool off, and Dean squeezed her tight one more time. "Feel better?" Devon sighed, nodding. "Well, I think we'd better get out. It's gonna get cold."

They dried off, and Dean pulled Devon close, kissing her softly, then smiling down at her, amused. She looked like a tired child, barely able to keep her eyes open. He took her hand and led her to the bed, pulling the blankets down, then covering her after she laid down. He turned off the lights and crawled in beside her, his arm raised. "Come here, sweetheart," he said, and she turned to him, snuggling up to his side, her leg over his, her arm across his belly. He tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "Whatever happens tomorrow, Dev... I love you."

"I love you, too," she murmured against his skin, sighing drowsily as she gave in and fell asleep. Dean held her close, running his fingers through her hair, dropping an occasional kiss on her head as he tried not to think about the next day.

A few hours later, Dean woke as a low groan forced its way from his lips. Devon's hand surrounded him, stroking him softly, and she kissed him as he opened his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep so fast," she whispered, and he rolled to his side, pulling her hard against him as he kissed her, suddenly ravenous for her.

"I like the way you wake up," he whispered, his kisses trailing down her face to her neck. She playfully stroked him again, giggling as he reared his head back.

"I like the way you wake up," she teased, and then gasped quietly as he lowered his head to her breast, his hand moving slowly down her side, over her hip, and tickling over her belly before slipping between her legs. He urged her gently to her back, and it was her turn to moan as he sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, and she squirmed beneath him. He moved over her, entering her so slowly that she grasped at him, trying to pull him closer. But he held back, bending to kiss her, muffling the low sounds that she could hold back no longer, then looking down at her in the dim light as he filled her, and pulled back slowly until only his tip remained, leaving her whimpering. "Please..." she whispered, and he couldn't fight it any longer, driving himself in as she cried out his name, her legs clutched tight around him, and he growled softly as her core convulsed around him. He held himself back once again, fighting the urge to plunge into her as her release flooded over him, but he waited, kissing her gently, his tongue tangling sweetly with hers.

When she came back to herself once again, her fingers playing lightly over his back, her tongue thrusting into his mouth with renewed purpose, he raised his head, pushing slowly inside her again as she looked up at him, her eyes shining. He held himself up on one arm, letting the fingers of his other hand glide slowly over her breasts, then down between them, his tongue playing over his lips as he found her most sensitive spot, slick with her fluids, and her head thrashed about as she whimpered, "Dean..."

He hissed a breath in through his clenched teeth as he brushed his fingers against himself, then brought them to his lips, sucking them clean before kissing her, hard, then raising up to plunge into her, over and over, driving her farther up on the bed with each thrust as she clung to him, her nails digging into the rippling muscles of his back. She cried out his name again as she came, and he drove into her until he finally exploded powerfully inside her, still thrusting hard until he was spent. He held himself propped up on his elbows for a time, kissing her neck and shoulder, feather-soft kisses and touches of his tongue. Then he rolled slowly to his side, still holding her tight, capturing her lips and caressing them gently, his tongue lazily dancing with hers, his fingers lightly stroking over her hip and up her back. He finally pulled back, brushing a few strands of hair from her face, looking into her eyes for a moment, hesitating before he spoke quietly. "I love you, Devon. I love you, do you hear me?"

"I hear you, Dean. I love you, too." She leaned in to kiss him softly. "Why wouldn't I hear you?"

"I just want to make sure. Before tomorrow. Well, today, I guess. I need you to know, I want to make sure you know." He looked down, and when he looked at her again there were tears in his eyes. "I've never had this before, Devon. Not like this, not like I am with you. And I don't want to lose it."

Devon kissed him again, her hand on his face. "We're not going to lose it, Dean. We're going to kill that evil son of a bitch. I've never had this before either, and I'll be damned if he's going to take you away from me." Her eyes were filled with tears now, too, and she clung to him as he tightened his arms around her. They laid there together for the next couple of hours, not wanting to go back to sleep, wanting to feel every moment, until the sun finally began to filter in around the curtains and lighten the room. Then Dean kissed her one more time before they got out of bed to get dressed, the silence heavy in the room, the danger ahead weighing heavily on them both.


	34. Chapter 34

Dean reached for Devon's hand as they walked towards Bobby's room. Before they could knock, the door opened and Dean stepped back, a little surprised, as Ellen stepped out from behind it. "I'll go grab us some breakfast and coffee, be right back," she called over her shoulder before she turned to say, "Morning," to the two of them. Dean smiled and nodded, and as Ellen backed Bobby's car away from the building, he shot an incredulous look at Devon, who shrugged.

They walked into the room as Bobby stuck his hat atop his head, nodding towards them. Dean stared at the older man for a moment, then finally took a breath and asked what was on his mind. "Bobby, you didn't use the old 'this could be our last night on earth' line on Ellen, did you?" Devon fought to smother a smile as Bobby frowned Dean's direction.

"Hell, no!" He turned his back on them, stuffing his wallet and other items into his pockets from where they lay scattered on the table. "She used it on me." Dean quickly squelched a burst of laughter with a fake cough, turning away before Bobby could see his face, and Devon bit her lip, busying herself with straightening the curtains to avoid facing him for a moment.

They were saved by Sam and Nicole knocking on the door, and Dean answered it with a sigh of relief. Bobby turned as Nicole walked in, nodding a greeting. "How you feelin', Reb?"

"I'm okay, Bobby." Nicole smiled at him, a little nervously at first, but becoming more genuine as Bobby shot a wink her way.

"Don't worry, girl. You've got this," he said firmly, patting her on the shoulder as he passed by her, going to grab his phone from the bedside table.

"He's right, Nicole. We'll keep him distracted until you have a clear shot. That platform is close enough, shouldn't be any problem for you. You're a hell of a shot." Dean was looking at her straight-on, and Nicole took a breath, nodding, taking a little courage from the confidence in his gaze.

"Thanks, Dean. I'll be fine. Just need a little coffee to get me going."

Before long, Ellen was back with breakfast and caffeine for them all. They shared breakfast together, all a little preoccupied and quiet, and within the hour they were heading out to the vehicles. Ellen popped Bobby lightly on the rump as he left her side to go to the driver's side door of his car, and Sam caught Dean's eye, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

Sam and Nicole crawled into the back seat, and as Devon closed her door, Sam blurted out, "What the hell was that about, Dean?"

Dean laughed, a low chuckle that made Devon smile. "Ellen and Bobby spent the night together. You know, possibly their last night on earth and all."

"Bobby used that line on her, and she went for it?"

"Nope." Dean threw Baby in reverse, and then into drive to follow Bobby out of the driveway. "Ellen used it on him."

Nicole broke into loud laughter, joined by the others. "Atta girl, Ellen!" she said, and let out another burst of laughter as they headed down the road to their destination.

The laughter was gone by the time they pulled in by the old warehouse building and parked beside Bobby's car. Dean shut off the engine, and the silence seemed almost eerie as they sat there for a moment, unmoving.

They finally got out of the car, closing the doors, and Dean walked around to the trunk. He opened it, looking down into it, and jumped just a little as Devon slid her arms around him from behind. He turned to face her, almost taken aback at the love shining in her eyes. He raised a hand to touch her face, his fingers gliding gently over her cheek, then down to her neck and under her hair, pulling her close as he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her softly. "You ready for this?" he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

"Yes. I am. Let's get rid of this thing so we can get on with our lives." His lips curved in a one-sided smile, and he lowered his head once more, kissing her a little harder this time, his tongue dancing briefly with hers.

"Okay. Let's kick it in the ass." They grabbed the weapons from the trunk, entering the building. Bobby had finished putting the ingredients into the bowl set in the center of the devil's trap, and he straightened as they came in. Devon handed out the iron rail spikes, giving each person two of them to keep in their pockets, and handing each one an iron bar or poker as a backup. They each had sawed-offs loaded with the iron buckshot rounds, and Nicole carried the Colt, tucked into the back of her jeans. Sam walked her over to the little loading platform where she would be hiding, waiting for the opportunity to put a bullet into the demon.

She went up three of the steps and turned towards him, face to face for a change, and took his face in her hands. "You'd better stay safe, Sam. You hear me?" He looked down for a moment, a smile making his dimples wink, and Nicole sighed. "I love you, you know." She kissed him, her arms tightening around his neck as he held her close, then rested his forehead on hers.

"I love you, too, half-pint." They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, then Sam raised his head and nodded shortly as she flashed him one last, sad smile before going up the rest of the stairs and taking her place behind the crates on the platform. She found a good spot where she could see the room and had a clear shot at the center of the devil's trap, pulled up a crate, and took a seat.

"Are you kids ready?" Bobby asked, standing behind the bowl, a matchbook in his hand. Devon took a deep breath, trying to calm her pounding heart, and smiled tremulously at Dean as he gave her hand a squeeze, then moved to his position a few feet away on her right. Sam was to her left, and Ellen and Bobby would be on the other side of the trap. Devon laid her poker down on the concrete next to her, checked her sawed-off, and felt in her jacket pocket for the spikes. Then she closed her eyes for a second before nodding at Bobby. Once he had made eye contact with each one, receiving their okay, he lit a match and dropped it into the bowl, then read from John's journal. His voice echoed in the empty building as he read the summoning spell, then stepped back outside the devil's trap to wait. After a moment of complete stillness, the evil thing spoke as it turned to fix its yellow-eyed stare on Dean.

"Well. I see the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Dean Winchester. Your daddy summoned me, that didn't go so well for him, did it?" The creature, inside its human host, turned slightly to look at Sam. "And Sammy. I can't tell you how disappointed I am in you. You were my golden boy. You were always my favorite. You screwed up years of work and planning, and I'm afraid you're gonna have to be a man and take your medicine." Devon shuddered as the demon's eyes came to rest on her, and she instinctively raised her shotgun to her shoulder. The demon smiled. "And who have we here? Dean, is she yours? Very nice. What's her name?"

A hate-filled sneer spread across Dean's face. "You'll never know her name, asshole."

The smile faded from the demon's face. "I'm going to enjoy killing you almost as much as I'll enjoy killing little Sammy, here." He gestured towards Sam, and Dean's lip curled.

"Sorry, but you won't be leaving that devil's trap," Dean snarled, lifting the Colt lookalike up to aim at the monster.

The demon cocked its head, a smirk on its face. "Who says I have to leave it?" With a gesture of its arm, the creature drew Devon towards it so quickly that there was no time to react. Dean called out, but it was too late, and she stood in the devil's trap with the demon's arm holding her securely to its chest as her terrified eyes looked at Dean.

He looked back, desperate frustration on his face. "Let her go! She has nothing to do with this."

The demon sneered at him again, raising its hand to stroke down the side of Devon's face as she squeezed her eyes shut, and Dean ground his teeth together in anger. "You're the one who summoned me, and you brought her along to aim a gun at me. She has just as much to do with this as you do." Devon shook as the demon lowered its head and ran its tongue along the side of her face, and nausea almost overwhelmed her.

"Don't touch her, you filthy..."

"What are you gonna do, Dean? Shoot me? Come one, you've got the Colt. Shoot me. Right through the chest. Of course, the bullet will have to go through her, too. But if you wanna make an omelet, you gotta break a few eggs." Dean stared back into the eerie yellow eyes, shaking with rage. "Dean, I don't have all day. If you're not gonna kill me, then what's the point?" With a wave of its arm, it sent Dean's pistol flying several feet away, clattering on the concrete. Dean's shotgun was on his shoulder before the echo died.

"Bobby Singer, you let him move forward with this plan? Not very well thought out, was it?" A jerk of the demon's head sent Bobby and Ellen tumbling across the floor, and Dean's eyes widened as he looked at his brother, who was wearing the same expression. As he looked back towards the devil's trap, he met Devon's gaze as she was slowly reaching into her pocket, and fear squeezed his heart. He watched as she very slowly drew one of the spikes from her pocket as the demon watched his handiwork, chuckling to himself. Devon clenched her teeth and drove the spike back into the demon's belly, and it howled with pain as it burned, smoke pouring from the wound. Its teeth bared in fury, it sent Devon flying across the room, and she landed with a crash on top of a pile of crates, crying out with pain.

"Play time is over, boys," the demon shouted, and it raised its arm, clenching its fist, causing Dean to cry out in pain as he was driven to his knees. "Don't worry, Sammy, you're next." As Azazel moved to increase Dean's torture, a shot rang out, and the demon turned towards where Nicole now stood, fire in her eyes as she shouted, "You won't get the chance, you son of a bitch." The demon began to shake, light from the bullet wound in its head glowing brighter and brighter until the body dropped, lifeless, to the concrete and the last few sparks from the wound faded out.

Dean rose to his feet, wincing in pain, one arm wrapped around his torso, stumbling back to where Devon had landed. Her eyes were fighting to open, and she groaned loudly as Dean dropped to his knees beside her. "Devon." He reached for her, slipping a hand behind her back as he helped her to a sitting position, and she cried out in pain as she tried to lean on her left arm. "Are you all right?" he asked, reaching to cradle her arm in his hand, running his other hand over it carefully as she reared her head back in pain. "Baby, I think this is broken. Let me help you up." He took hold of her good arm, helping her stand, then putting his arms around her, holding her tight as she held her arm out to the side. He fought his emotions, squeezing his eyes shut until he had a handle on them, trying not to think what could have happened, what he could have found when he came to her side. She clung to him with her good arm, her hand clutching at his shirt.

Sam turned, having just finished checking on Bobby and Ellen, and Nicole bounded into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist. Bobby helped Ellen sit down on a nearby crate, and she nodded as he spoke softly to her. Nicole was shaking, and Sam pried her loose from his frame, setting her on her feet and bending to look into her eyes. "Nicole, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, I'm fine. Devon!" She turned as Dean helped Devon walk slowly towards them, but stopped short of giving her a hug as she saw the way she was cradling her broken arm. "Oh, Devon. I'm sorry."

Devon smiled weakly, her face pale. "I'm okay. You killed him. You did it, Nicole." Dean walked Devon over beside Sam, who put a careful, protective arm around her shoulders, then turned and grabbed the tiny blond in a bear hug. Nicole was quiet for a shocked moment, then laughed, hugging him back.

"Dean, we need to get Devon to a hospital," Sam said quietly, watching her pale face with concern. He helped her to a crate near Ellen, and got her seated as Ellen smiled at her.

"That was a gutsy move, girl. Stabbing him with an iron spike. He could have killed you, Devon."

Devon smiled, shaking a little, fighting a wave of nausea. "But he didn't. He would have killed me, anyway, so it was worth a shot. And now he's dead, and Sam and Dean are free." Ellen smiled as Devon looked at her, making a brave attempt to smile back.

"Dean, are you okay? The last time you tangled with him, you had massive internal bleeding," Sam said as Nicole stepped away and let him put a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"I'm fine, Sammy."

"Bobby, we need to get these two to a hospital," Sam said, his mouth tight with worry as Dean continued to clutch his midsection.

"I said I'm fine, Sam." Dean's jaw was clenched as he stubbornly fought his pain. "Just take Devon, I'll help Bobby clean this up."

"Dean! Get your ass in the car, you idjit! Nicole, you and Ellen take them to the hospital, Sam and I'll clean this up, and then we'll meet you there. And get Ellen checked out, too."

"Bobby Singer..." Ellen started to protest, but Bobby cut her off angrily.

"Woman! Get in the car!" Bobby shouted. Ellen's eyes widened a little, but she stood and put an arm around Devon, helping her towards the door. Dean sent a stubborn glare Bobby's way, but followed behind them, and Nicole stood on tiptoe to kiss Sam before leaving.

They made their way to the Impala, and Nicole held her hand out, staring up at Dean, ready for an argument. After hesitating for a few seconds, he rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket for the keys, and handed them over. Then he helped Devon into the back seat, crawling in after her, putting an arm carefully around her.

Nicole started the engine, smiling a little to herself at the rumble, and Ellen folded her arms over her chest, a stormy look on her face. "That man has never raised his voice to me before," she grumbled, and Dean snorted softly from the back seat.

"You're lucky."

Devon sat beside Dean's bed, her left forearm and hand completely covered by a plaster cast. Dean laid there, staring at the television, those little dimples above his mouth, the ones that showed up when he was frustrated or perturbed, firmly in place. Devon stifled a smile as she looked at him, standing up to bend over him and kiss him softly. "Don't be grumpy. Sam was right. You needed a transfusion, and they had to make sure there was no more internal bleeding going on, Dean. You only have to stay for one night. I'll stay with you." She kissed him again, and he responded this time, his hand sliding up her arm, gripping her firmly and pulling her closer. The sound of someone clearing their throat stopped them, and Devon blushed, trying not to smile as the doctor entered the room.

"Mr. Warren. Seems that your internal bleeding has stopped. If you took a fall like that, I can't figure out why you're not showing any external bruising, but at any rate, you're going to be fine. We want to keep you overnight for observation, but you should be able to leave in the morning."

Dean nodded, reluctantly agreeing with the doctor, who turned his gaze on Devon. "Miss Nolan? How's the arm feeling?"

She smiled a little, shrugging. "It's okay."

"I can prescribe some pain pills..."

"I'm fine, really."

Dean took her hand, a smile on his face as he looked at her, a glint of pride shining in his eyes. "She's pretty tough, doc."

The doctor smiled. "Apparently. Well, get some rest. I'll be in at around nine to check you over, and then you can probably go home."

After he left, Devon grinned at Dean. "Mr. Warren?"

"Hey, have to go with what my insurance card says, don't I?" His smile faded slowly, his eyes travelling over her face. "Come here." He tugged gently at her hand, pulling her back towards him, and his hand came up to touch her face as he kissed her, then laid back to look into her eyes. "I thought for a minute that I was gonna lose you."

Devon laid her head on Dean's chest as his fingers played through her hair. "No way. You're not getting rid of me that easy."

"Dean? You okay? What'd the doc say?" Sam asked quietly from the doorway before stepping into the room, Nicole beside him, clinging to his hand.

"Gave me some blood. He said the bleeding's stopped. I can go home in the morning, after he checks me over."

Sam smiled, relief evident on his face, nodding. "Good. Devon, how's the arm?"

She held up her cast. "I'll be okay, just have to wear this dumb thing for six weeks."

Bobby and Ellen came into the room, and Bobby nodded his head to Dean. "Son, glad you're gonna be okay." Devon rose to her feet and came to the older man, and he opened his arms, hugging her tight for a moment. "You, too, Devon. Your daddy would have been proud of you today."

Devon smiled up at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. "Thanks, Bobby. I think maybe he would have been proud of all of us."


End file.
